by R. J. Larson
“Amar!” She shoved him with all her might and kicked his shins.
As he laughed and stepped backward, Ela noticed shadows flickering behind him, crowding the entry. Twisting shades of darkness coiled around Amar, then showed their faces, gloating at Ela as if to say, We have him. You can do nothing.
Deceivers! She lunged for the door.
Amar grabbed her waist, pulling her against him once more, his bruising grip at odds with his lulling whisper. “Why are you trying to avoid me? Stay. Listen to me. We were mistaken to abandon our marriage plans, and we ought to go downstairs and discuss matters.”
“No!” Her reputation would be ruined. Unable to free herself, Ela screamed and fought, trying to hit Amar with the branch.
“Hush!” He seized her wrist and smashed her hand against the wall. Pain stabbed through Ela’s fingers. She cried out as her precious insignia clattered down the stairs into the room below. Amar lifted Ela off her feet and followed the branch’s path, hauling her down the stairs.
Ela fought, screaming, tearing at Amar’s hair with her uninjured hand.
Amar swore. “Shut up! Ow!” He lurched down the final steps and dropped her, feet first.
She tottered against a plastered wall, struggling for balance. If Amar was attempting reconciliation, he was failing! Ela turned from the wall, longing to wound him. Viciously. “Listen, you—!”
She gasped, now recognizing this room and its occupants. Sius and Za’af Chacen loomed behind Amar, smirking, their eyes flint-dark and hateful—just as she’d seen in this afternoon’s vision. Sius asked, “Did you think we’d let you escape punishment for what you’ve done?”
Ela shrieked a frantic prayer. “Infinite!”
A heated blue-white gleam appeared in her palm, swift and brilliant as lightning, forming the branch. She swung a wide arc at her attackers and all three fell back, yelling and clutching their faces. The stench of seared flesh filled the room. The deceivers vanished like smoke blasted by a ferocious, cleansing wind.
Ela fled for the stairs, praying the young men wouldn’t follow her.
They didn’t.
She dashed up the stairs, shoved open the door, and staggered onto the high terrace, gasping for air. If she were a cursing sort, she’d curse Amar and the Chacens now. Her gasps became sobs, and she blinked at tears.
Despite her shakiness, Ela rushed along the path toward the temple. She should have been more watchful. She shouldn’t have asked her parents to avoid the temple tonight. Yet her beloved Creator had protected her. . . . Her voice wavering, pathetic, she whispered, “Infinite.”
I am here.
“I know.” Tears slid down her face now. “Thank You.” Hurried footsteps clattered on the paved path behind her. Were Amar and the Chacens planning to throw her off the wall? Ela turned, braced for battle. From now on, if she survived, she would take the street-level path to the temple. Winding and lengthy as it was, at least she couldn’t be shoved off a ledge to her death. A gray-clad figure hesitated. A woman. Sharp brown eyes in a thin face. “Matron Prill.”
“Yes.” Ela’s childhood foe approached, clearly concerned. “Why are you crying?”
Infinite, You sent her, didn’t You?
Yes.
All right. For whatever reason, she would accept Prill’s presence. Ela cast a nervous glance up the path, beyond the matron, toward the entry door. Stillness met her gaze. Only the leaves fluttered in the tiny terraced garden. Where were those three young men? Undoubtedly planning trouble. To Matron Prill, she said, “Pray for me, please.”
“I’d like to walk with you,” the woman said. She matched her steps to Ela’s as they moved along. “I presume you are going to the temple.”
“You know I am.” Beyond doubt, the Roehs’ habits were too predictable.
“But won’t you tell me why you are crying?”
Did the matron have to sound so kind and concerned? Fresh tears welled, stinging Ela’s eyes as she marched onward. “Amar and the Chacens were tormenting me.” Really, she had to set aside thoughts of the attack before fear rendered her useless as a prophet. No doubt just as the Chacens intended.
“Huh. Those reprobates! The Chacen boys are married, yet they’re seducing girls and leading them into Atean shrines. Forgive me for being blunt, Ela, but it’s true. And evidently you’re their next victim. Why there’s no outcry about their shameless behavior, I don’t know. It seems you need a chaperone.”
Chaperone? The question Ela wanted to ask about the shrines was choked off by Prill’s observation. Infinite? She’s my new chaperone?
Behave.
“I’m trying,” Ela muttered.
“Trying what?” the matron demanded.
“Nothing.” While resigning herself to the situation, Ela felt obliged to warn the woman. “If you’re seen with me, you’ll become a target.”
“I’m already a target.” Amusement lightened Prill’s words and her face, making her look more like a girl than a stern childless widow. “Do you think I’m so easily scared? Your parents and I have gathered enemies for speaking out against that so-called goddess Atea’s shrines.”
“I’ve heard. The Infinite sees your faithfulness, and He will bless you.”
“I felt it was nothing but my duty.” They turned a corner and trekked toward the temple’s vast public courtyard. Prill said, “I must be honest. When you became prophet, Ela, I felt as if the Infinite had slapped me. Who would ever think that the Roehs’ sassy, irritating little girl would be called by the Infinite? But you have become His prophet, and Parne needs you.”
“Hmm.” All right. That was a compliment. If Kien were here, he’d be laughing. Kien . . . Ela smiled. Perhaps enduring Prill wouldn’t be awful as she’d imagined. And didn’t her chaperone’s honest observation deserve a truthful response? “Matron, when I was a little girl, I didn’t understand you. I thought you were mean, interfering, and always tattling on me to my parents.”
Matron Prill halted in her tracks and stared at Ela, obviously shocked. “Well . . .”
Ela hugged the woman as a peace offering, then nudged her onward. “Thank you. I understand now. Are you certain you want to be caught in my company?”
Prill took two stammering tries to respond. “Oh . . . well . . . of course. You do need a chaperone, and your parents are mightily overwhelmed with that new baby and your father’s failing business. Besides, I’m convinced the Infinite sent me.”
“You’re right. He did.” Meaning every word, Ela said, “I appreciate your kindness.”
Her new chaperone’s chin quivered as if she were about to cry. Ela linked arms with her. “Let’s pray for courage. You know . . .” Ela studied Prill again. “You don’t look as old as I remember. And nowhere near as . . . er . . . mean. Actually, you’re quite sweet and kind.”
The woman sniffled and worked up an ineffective scowl. “Nonsense. Obviously, you’re the one who’s aged, Ela Roeh. Though you’re sassy as ever.”
“I suppose I can’t argue.” As they entered the temple’s courtyard, the branch glittered in Ela’s hand. Her hand that ought to be broken. Or at least badly bruised and scraped. She’d been healed, and she hadn’t noticed. Infinite, You are amazing! Why . . . ?
Beside Ela, Prill interrupted her thoughts. “What’s about to happen?”
“Um.” Ela blinked and looked away from her hand, pulling together her wits. “I suppose I’m about to become the least popular person in Parne.”
“You are taking my role,” her elder complained.
“You’re not sorry, are you?”
“I suppose it’s nice to have company.” Prill pinched Ela’s sleeve in the traditional Parnian-chaperone bid for attention. “Where are we going?”
“To the temple’s door.”
“And what, pray tell, are you about to do?”
Despite her distress, Ela smiled. A gentle current of words slipped through her mind, conveying some of Prill’s past thoughts concerning the temple. “I’m abou
t to do what you’ve longed to do for years.”
In Ela’s healed hand, the branch blazed, fueled by the Infinite’s righteous wrath.
Her heartbeat quickening, Ela called to the growing crowd, “Why are you here? Do you believe the Infinite wants your sacrifices after you’ve bowed before the altars of Atea? After you’ve offered your bodies and hearts to a nonexistent goddess?”
While some of the worshipers seemed indifferent, or merely curious, more than a few gave her scornful looks, as if to say, Fool, what do you know?
“Hypocrites! Liars!” Ela returned their scowls. “You’re saying to yourselves, ‘We’re Parnians. We can worship as we please! We’re safe because we obey our traditions.’ But you’re wrong! Do you think your Creator hasn’t seen what you’re doing? Or that He hasn’t noticed the stains on your souls?”
Priests paraded down the temple’s steps now, white-robed, their lips tight with irritation at her for delaying their work. Ela included them in a cold, sweeping gaze. “Do you believe the Infinite approves your offenses? By His own righteousness, He cannot! Parne has not obeyed its Creator or responded to correction. Truth has perished here. And Parne has been judged.”
She had the crowd’s attention. But not its support. How could they be so blind? Fresh tears threatened to fall. “Your ancestors wouldn’t listen to the prophet Eshtmoh when he warned Parne of these offenses—just as you won’t listen to me, but I’m warning you again! The Infinite has abandoned you! Belaal is assembling its army to invade Parne’s lands, and other tribes will join Belaal before Parne’s walls. Parne is about to be conquered. And those of you who stand by idly, thinking none of this matters—you’re wrong! Your indifference has ensured Parne’s death.”
Numerous would-be worshipers laughed and shook their heads. Ela unknotted her white linen sash and then lifted it above the crowd. “You don’t believe what I’ve told you! You think your souls are as pure as this linen. But you’re lying to yourselves! Soon you’ll see this belt is unfit for use, as you are unfit for your Creator.”
The instant she’d spoken against their traditions, Ela felt loathing rise from the crowd and dash toward her like a wave rushing at a coastal shore. She gripped the pristine linen. “The next time you see this cloth, you will see your souls as the Infinite sees them! You’ve defiled yourselves and your temple by abandoning the Infinite. Therefore, He has abandoned you!”
A man stepped forward from the crowd, his dark brown eyes and majestic stance mocking Ela before he spoke. She recognized Zade Chacen, Parne’s former chief priest, whom she’d ousted on the Infinite’s orders. Chacen sneered. “You are a child. A mistaken child!”
Murmurs of approval greeted his sentiment. Ela studied Chacen and heard his thoughts plotting her downfall. Infinite, how could this man have been Parne’s spiritual leader?
Emotions caught hold of Ela’s soul, painful enough to make her wince. She fought down the urge to wail and tear her hair like a mourner preparing to seal off one of Parne’s tomb houses.
“Chacen, you traitor! The Infinite asks you, and all those who follow your faithless ways, why have you angered Him by yielding to your desires and chasing after idols that don’t exist? Do you think those little non-gods like Atea can help you?”
Zade Chacen laughed, gesturing broadly, as if to take in the crowd around him as kindred. “Do I look like someone who needs help? Do any of us need your help, little girl?”
Ela swallowed the lump forming in her throat and forced herself to speak past the pain. “You—all of you—believe you’re strong. Whole. And healthy. But I see ashes where there was living flesh. I hear wailing from a distant land. And an outcry from heaven as your Creator mourns for His people, who refuse to be healed!”
She was crying again. So undignified. Weak! How could the Infinite have chosen her as His prophet? She was useless! Composing herself, she stared Chacen in the eyes. “Do you remember my first prophecy, Zade Chacen?”
He stared, maliciously unforgiving and silent.
Matching her fierceness to his, Ela said, “You believe it won’t happen. You’ve told yourself that I’m a false prophet. But the Infinite hasn’t forgotten. ‘As a sign to you, your sons will die on the same day, during a terrible calamity.’ That day is near, Chacen!”
The deposed chief priest climbed the steps. “We’ll see, won’t we, girl? Now step aside! The priests are waiting, and you have delayed Parne from fulfilling its duties.”
To Chacen, and everyone, Ela cried, “Yes, enter the temple! Burn your sacrifices! But the Infinite won’t attend your dead rituals. Instead, this temple will burn with this cursed city!”
Clutching the spotless sash, Ela descended the temple’s steps. Beautiful white stone steps, leading false devotees to futile worship.
The priests marched past, some avoiding her gaze, others barely concealing their smirks.
A voice beside her hissed, “Stupid things! Fools!” Matron Prill wrapped a thin arm around Ela as if she could protect her from the crowd’s animosity.
A young woman wearing an elaborate silver cuff, etched with the goddess Atea’s serpentine coils, shoved Ela. Others added jabs and taunts as Ela wove a path through the temple’s public courtyard. A young man, his hands clenched into fists, stepped in their way and didn’t move. Ela looked up at him.
Sius Chacen. With a stark black slash seared like a brand into his right cheek. Around the black gash, the skin was puffed, blistered, and painfully crimson. His dark eyes glittering with hatred, he said, “We’ve decided how you will be repaid. Prophet.”
“Young man, you are a disgrace.” Prill sniffed.
Sius heard and muttered, “You’re next, woman.”
“Hmph!” The matron tugged Ela’s sleeve. “Come along, Ela. Let’s leave this trash on the pavings, shall we?”
Ela felt Sius watching her as they departed the temple’s vast courtyard.
Infinite? Why couldn’t I have been warned about Chacen’s sons plotting with Amar?
What were you doing when Amar snatched you?
Running along the high path to the temple. And praying.
Praying for whom?
For the people of Parne to . . . Her thought faded as she sensed her Creator’s response.
Do not pray for those faithless ones! Don’t intercede for them, because I will not listen to you!
Ela’s steps faltered. How could she cope with the Parnians if she couldn’t pray for them? At least praying had given her some hope that Parne’s situation might change. But now the hope was gone. Undoubtedly the Infinite knew her prayers were useless—wasting her strength. Now it seemed she must pray for the faithful alone. And yet . . . and yet . . . even Zade Chacen’s soul—
“Watch where you’re going,” the matron scolded. “My, my, but you’re distracted.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Giving herself an inward shake, Ela abandoned despairing thoughts of Parne’s lost souls and focused on the homeward path—a different trek from her usual one. All the better. Amar would have to guess at her whereabouts from now on. But how could she completely avoid him? Or the Chacens? Reprobates! What were they planning now?
In despair, she sorted through possibilities until they descended into the small public square that fronted the Roeh home.
Father was waiting for Ela in the doorway. He met her gaze and crossed his arms. Not good. Behind him, Jon Thel stepped out of the house, one hand readied to draw his sword. Oh, a bad sign!
“Mercy,” Prill murmured. “Your father looks furious. What do you suppose has upset him?”
15
Dan Roeh’s gaze remained steadfast, fixed on Ela as if trying to wrest every thought from her mind. “What happened?”
“I . . .” Ela hesitated. How much should she say? Infinite, help! “I was going to ask you the same question. Why are you two waiting outside? What’s wrong?” How could they know she’d been in trouble?
Jon seemed ready to lead a skirmish. “You tell us. Scythe went wild and tried
to hammer down the city’s gate. Were you hurt?”
Ela gulped. “Um, I’m fine now. Is Scythe all right?” Poor Pet! She’d forgotten about her destroyer’s protective instincts.
“Yes,” Jon grumbled. “He’s settled down now. But I had to bribe the watchman to let us in to check on you.”
“Us?” Heart sinking, Ela asked, “Did you bring Scythe?”
“I left him with Savage and Audacity. Beka insisted on coming with me.”
Matron Prill’s thin face reflected disapproval. “Who are Scythe, Savage, and Audacity? Are these some rough companions you’ve gathered, Ela?”
“Rough?” Ela smiled weakly, remembering the destroyers’ irritable faces. “Yes, very.”
Father cut the conversation short. “What happened? Did you provoke a riot at the temple?”
“No. Those Atea-lovers wouldn’t listen to me. But before that—” Ela fought a sudden fit of nerves. “The Chacens threatened me.”
“As did Amar,” Matron Prill added. “Dan, he’s become incorrigible.”
Father’s brown eyes widened. “Did he dare to touch you?”
“Yes.” Before Father could go storming off to beat Amar and add to the Roehs’ difficulties, Ela added, “But I’m fine, Father, really. And thanks to the Infinite, I left Amar and the Chacen brothers with scars.”
“Oh!” Prill clasped her hands together. “You branded Sius Chacen’s cheek? Ela, that’s perfect! I wondered what happened to him. Now, Dan Roeh, trust me, you needn’t bash those miscreants further. Their marks are set for terrible infections, I’m sure.”
Jon laughed, his militant stance easing. “I should have known! Ela, you branded them?”
“The Infinite did. I’m glad you’re amused.” Ela touched Dan Roeh’s arm, the white sash fluttering between them. “Father, I know you’re worried, but the Infinite will deal with Amar. Furthermore, Matron Prill has agreed to accompany me everywhere.”
“Good,” Dan said. “And if Prill is unable to accompany you in Parne, you wait for your mother or for me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Father. Unless the Infinite wills otherwise.” And neither her parents nor Prill were as strict with her as the Infinite, the Ordainer of parenthood.
