The World Weavers

by Kelley Grant

  Tori shook her head. “We might as well visit the shrines of the deities first and see which acolytes the One wants to convert. Then all the new Counselors can descend on Elida at once.”

  Shane grinned wickedly. “That’s rather cruel,” he murmured, but followed her lead.

  Voras’s shrine was the first doorway in the corridor, and pilgrims parted as the three Counselors swept in.

  “I don’t expect many acolytes at Voras’s shrine to convert to Counselors,” Sandy murmured as they marched past soldiers to the altar in the center of the shrine.

  Tori put her hands on Voras’s altar before the disapproving Knight could accost her.

  “Who is called to the One?” she asked out loud. There was a flash of golden light. Two soldiers stared at her in shock, red cloaks bleached to gold. She looked past them as a door opened from the courtyard and three more soldiers, now with gold cloaks, stepped through.

  “That’s all of you?” she asked.

  “There might be more,” one former soldier said timidly. “There are many out sparring and on patrol.”

  Tori nodded, and they followed behind her like chicks as she exited to the hallway. Counselor Elida stood in the doorway to the Temple of the One and raised her eyebrows as she saw Tori.

  “Causing trouble, Counselor Tori?” she asked dryly.

  Tori grinned mischievously at her. “They’re all yours, Counselor Elida,” she said, motioning to her followers.

  While Elida gathered the new Counselors, Tori, Shane, and Sandy swept into Ivanha’s altar.

  The Mother Superior objected when she laid her hands on the altar, but the results were instant.

  “Oh, yes, yes, yes!” A young man bustled out of the Crone’s office, his cloak pure gold. He was carrying a cup of tea. “You have no idea how many years I have waited for this. Here is your tea, you old goat.” He poured the cup over the Mother Superior’s head, to her gasping horror.

  Sandy snickered, but Shane stared as the door to the courtyard opened and women in gold poured through.

  “There will be more of us,” one woman said practically, “but many are taking care of their children at the rebuilt Children’s Home. They won’t come until replacements are found.”

  Sulis had warned Tori during their pledge year that the Templar could geas a woman into sleeping with him. Ivanha had a lot of disgruntled pledges from that system of choosing. Fifteen women now followed them to the Temple of the One, and more would be coming.

  “This one is mine,” Shane said as they entered the shrine of Parasu. He put his hands on his former altar more lovingly than Tori had the other two.

  “There is no shame in being called to something higher,” he said gently to the watching scholars as gold light glowed around him. “Merely a shift in priorities.”

  Even so, only about eight left the ser­vice of Parasu to follow them.

  Sandy pushed ahead in the final shrine and did the calling for Aryn.

  “Whiskers,” the Cantor said, looking down at his golden cloak. “The Herald and Ranger will be furious. They left me in charge.” He shook his head as he realized that his second in charge had also become a Counselor. “I’ll need to linger here until we figure out a replacement.” Ten others strode to Temple of the One. This time Tori, Sandy, and Shane led them in.

  It was quite crowded, with forty new Counselors of the One circled around Elida, who was by the central altar.

  “By the One,” she said, shaking her head. “Where are we going to sleep all of you?”

  Tori laughed at the practicality of that.

  “You have ideas, Counselor Tori?” Elida asked acerbically as Tori pushed through to stand by her.

  “No, I simply love that a miracle happens—­the One chooses dozens of new Counselors—­and all you can think is where to house them. You are far more practical than I,” she said.

  Counselor Elida hugged her absently, while doing a head count. “That is because you are new to this. The One surprises her Counselors so often that we tend toward the practical instead of awe. And we really can only fit a dozen in the Counselors’ house, and that’s if we stuff beds into all the rooms.”

  “We can use the attics in Aryn and Voras,” one new Counselor ventured. He was bespectacled and pale, probably a former scholar. “They are not being used for pledges this year and already have beds waiting.”

  Elida frowned. “I suppose that will do for now, though I’d prefer us all together.”

  “The Cantor is coming as well,” Shane told her.

  Elida did look shocked at that. “Whiskers. Aryn will not be happy,” she said. “I want you three to house with me. I need to know what training we will need for the final battle.”

  “I’m worried the deities will send their Voices scampering back to Illian after this,” Sandy said, looking out over the new Counselors who were chatting excitedly with each other. “They’ll want to know what we are up to, stealing their acolytes.”

  Counselor Elida shook her head. “This will confirm their belief that the One is trying to stop them from going to the Obsidian Temple. They don’t know the One wants them to go to the temple. Their arrogance will be their downfall.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Jonas sat atop his placid horse and looked around at the chaos of Voras’s army in shock. He coughed as acrid smoke wafted his direction and his mare shook her head uncomfortably.

  The Templar had already swung down and was screaming orders as his Knights gathered around him, gesturing and attempting to explain. Jonas looked in the direction they gestured and realized that burned tarps were covering bodies, dozens of bodies.

  “It looks like a battle occurred. Shocking, this close to the outpost,” the Magistrate said to Jonas, looking as puzzled as he was.

  The Herald and Ranger had flipped over a tarp and were examining the bodies underneath. Jonas climbed down from his mount, patting her absentmindedly as he turned her reins over to a waiting aide. He walked over to the Ranger.

  “What has happened here?” he asked.

  The Ranger shook her head. “We haven’t gotten any sense out of the Templar yet, but it looks like these Knights were assassinated. These aren’t battle wounds.”

  “We’ve got some bodies from the Tigu tribes over here,” the Herald said, coughing as she pulling up another tarp. She’d been coughing most of the trip and the smoke was making it worse.

  “How do you know they are Tigus?” Jonas asked.

  “They have tribal tattoos, which nontribal Southerners don’t,” the Herald said. “These bodies don’t have wounds, so they were not killed by a weapon. But look at the white around their mouths, foam that has dried. That indicates poisoning.”

  The Templar huffed up to them, a Knight following behind. “The Forsaken are gone,” he said. “Less than a thousand Forsaken remain. Those One-­blasted Southerners sent in assassins and killed all the Knights in the cohorts that contained Forsaken. The Forsaken fled north.”

  “Did your men capture any Tigus for questioning?” Jonas asked.

  “They killed themselves,” the Templar said. “Took some sort of powder. Blasted cowards.”

  Jonas rather thought it took courage to kill yourself to protect your territory, but he held his tongue as Parasu stirred in the back of his mind.

  “How many men remain?” Jonas asked at Parasu’s prompting.

  “We don’t have an exact count yet,” the Templar said. “Between six and seven thousand.”

  “Can you recover the Forsaken who fled?” the Crone asked, stepping up beside them. “Force the infidels back into ser­vice? Or did the Southerners capture them and take them for their army?”

  The Templar grimaced. “Most of the tracks lead north. They fled toward Illian, rather than run into the desert. My men believe the Tigus were here only to set the Forsaken free and did not press them i
nto ser­vice. It would be costly, both in time and labor, to try and recapture them,” he admitted. “We trained those Forsaken to fight. My soldiers report that the released Forsaken took their weapons with them when they fled. They set fire to the camp to distract my troops.”

  “Were many fighters injured?” the Herald asked.

  “We have burns from fighting the flames. Some fighters were wounded trying to keep the Forsaken from fleeing. The greatest loss of life you see in front of you—­my most talented Knights, who controlled the Forsaken. This would take an entire tribe to pull off.”

  The Herald shook her head. “The Tigus here are from different tribes. You can see it in the tattoos.”

  The Templar examined a ­couple of bodies as Jonas looked away from the still forms.

  “They’re savages, little better than the cowardly wild dogs who hang around the edges and harass from afar. They don’t cooperate like this,” he said in frustration.

  Jonas’s mouth opened without his volition. “Clearly you’ve underestimated them, Templar,” his voice said in Parasu’s flat tones. “There is someone directing these savages now because they have combined into a cohesive whole. We must consider if it is wise to continue this folly and travel farther into the desert.”

  The Templar stared at Jonas, mouth open slightly. An aide ran over and he turned to the soldier.

  “We have a command tent set up for you to get out of the sun,” the aide said. “With refreshments for the Voices. We also have cleared an area for the tents of the Voices and their parties.”

  The Templar nodded and turned to the others. “We will need shelter for several nights, even if the deities decide not to continue the campaign. We should meet again after our parties are settled,” he said. “Standing in the sun arguing does us no good. I still need to gather reports about last night’s events before I can total our losses.”

  “I need to find my healers,” the Herald said with another cough. “And find the tent they’ve set up for the wounded.”

  “We will meet in the command tent at dusk,” Parasu said through Jonas. “I will gather my own information throughout the day on these events and report my decision to the other deities this evening.”

  Jonas turned to the Magistrate and the rest of his party. “We will set up the tents. Parasu wishes to question the perimeter guards, along with those who captured the Southerners before they killed themselves. Once we have set up, you will find them and bring them to my tent for questioning.”

  Jonas was not permitted to help with setup of his camp, though he would have preferred to do something other than sit under a canvas shelter in the sweltering sun, looking official. His aides were more adept at setting up the large woven monstrosity his rank demanded. He would have been in the way as they sorted poles and ropes.

  Most of the sentries had been killed along with the Knights—­the Tigus had been thorough. The ones who remained saw nothing as they watched the desert, realizing something was amiss in the camp only when the Forsaken ran past them to escape.

  Jonas had settled in his spacious tent, a hand on his feli’s head, and was listening to the Magistrate question one of the Knights who had captured the Tigus when Parasu’s attention drifted away from the proceedings. Jonas listened, knowing Parasu would sift through his memory later to find what he needed.

  Parasu came back with a rush, and Jonas found himself standing before he realized what he was doing.

  “Tribune?” the Magistrate queried.

  “We will continue this later. Parasu must speak with Voras,” Jonas heard his voice say.

  The Magistrate and Knight bowed.

  “I can lead you to him,” the Knight offered, and Jonas inclined his head. As he followed behind the Knight, he asked his deity, What has happened?

  The One has stolen my ­people, Parasu said. Jonas could feel his fury. I had been aware of the One taking acolytes at temples farther out. But he has taken ­people in Illian, at my altar.

  Jonas entered the command tent in the center of the encampment and found Ivanha and Voras already there, possessing their Voices.

  “Twenty of my acolytes,” Ivanha screeched at Voras. “You said the One posed no risk, the One was helpless with so few followers. Well now she has plenty, and she stole them from me!”

  “We lost eight,” Parasu said. “I do not know what the One hopes to gain by making more Counselors.”

  “The One is trying to stop us!” Voras hissed. “He chose this attack after we abandoned the city, to draw us from our task.”

  Aryn entered, the Herald’s feli on her heels. She turned inhuman eyes on the rest of them. “The One stole my Cantor,” she growled. “And some of my best acolytes.”

  Voras chuckled nastily. “You should have chosen your leaders more wisely,” he said. “My acolytes were faithful—­only five abandoned my shrine.”

  Aryn bristled, and Parasu stepped between them. “We’ve all lost acolytes,” he said coldly. “The question is why now? And what will we do about it?”

  “We continue,” Voras said promptly. “This is clearly an attempt to draw us to Illian. To stop our campaign to regain our true selves. We should not let the One force our return.”

  “If the One wanted us in Illian, why steal our ­people? Why not try to stop us in the desert?”

  “What do you think the attack on the army was about?” Voras waved to the camp outside the tent. “You wanted to know who coordinated the Tigus. Clearly the desert priests have been ordered by the One to stop us. But they do not have the numbers we do, so they sneak in the night before we arrive. In case that doesn’t discourage us, the One takes as many of our acolytes as he can, hoping we will abandon our task.”

  Jonas could feel Parasu mulling this over, looking for flaws in the logic.

  “I had a vision,” Aryn said suddenly. “Something was being torn away from me—­and then I felt a sense of completion, of wholeness. I believe it was a foretelling, come from the ether.”

  “I felt this, too,” Ivanha hissed. Parasu and Voras nodded when the Aryn looked over at them.

  “I have felt this as well,” Parasu said. “It is the reason I believe we must continue, if we have enough men left in the army to defend us, and fight our way through to this Obsidian Temple. I believe it is a vision of us regaining our powers.”

  Voras nodded. “My spy who was killed at the Obsidian Temple reported only around three thousand warriors in the South. We have double that number. The Tigus cannot be more than a thousand strong, surviving in the desert without water and resources the way they do.”

  “But they have the advantage of knowing the terrain,” Aryn said. “They know the paths through the desert.”

  “We have our spies. We have broken and geased the Southern caravan guides who can work the spells on the oases. It will not take much to capture the smaller villages along our path. It will demoralize the Southerners to see their men and women fighting against them when they are geased into serving us,” Voras said.

  “What is to stop them from freeing the geased men like they just did?” Parasu asked.

  “My Voice will hold the geas, and he will be well protected. We know their tactics now,” Voras said. “With the combined might of our Voices, we can shield our men at night and keep any deserters from escaping.”

  “Yes,” Aryn said, “I agree. We stay to this path. The One is desperate to stop us, is acting out of fear. This tells me we are on the path to regaining what we lost. The time is now, and we must act or we could lose this chance forever.”

  “The time is now,” Ivanha agreed.

  “We continue into the Southern Territory,” Voras said. “It is agreed.”

  The other deities set their Voices’ bodies down on cushions around the tent. Jonas watched in fascination as divine awareness left their eyes and their bodies collapsed onto the rugs that made up the f
loor of the tent.

  We must be wary, my young Voice, Parasu warned Jonas. I do not fully understand the One’s actions and fear another motive lies behind the taking of our acolytes. I will be with you always, as we continue on this journey.

  Parasu settled into the back of Jonas’s mind, brooding over today’s events. He opened the tent flap and called the other deities’ acolytes to tend their Voices, and then walked to his tent, feeling young and overwhelmed. There was much to think about and plan. He was glad that Parasu would guide each step.

  I hate to tell you this, Kadar sent to Sulis after they’d finished catching up. Especially after hearing about Clay. But I have difficult news about your former masters.

  Kadar had finally reported in on all his doings with the Tigus the day after the Forsaken had been set free from the army. It had been more than a ten-­day since he’d last had a chance to contact her, and much had happened to both of them. He was en route with the elders of the tribes to meet up with the warriors of the One, at the very edge of the Sands where the Tigus and warriors of the One would combine forces for the final battle.

  What do you mean? Sulis asked, confused. Which masters?

  Masters Tull and Ursa, Kadar said. And an energy user named Bento. I learned a ten-­day ago they were being replaced as leaders of the warriors of the One so they could travel to Shpeth. I thought they were taking fighters to protect our cities.

  Sulis’s heart sank as he spoke. What happened to them? she asked. Are they dead?

  Yes. They sacrificed themselves. I guess the waymarkers and wards around the oases were set with some sort of blood magic. They were able to reset the protections using their own blood and bones. They died to save the western towns from the deities.

  Sulis gasped, opening her eyes, and Ashraf and Alannah looked over at her in concern. She shook her head at them and closed her eyes again.

  Ava told Sari how to do the ritual, Sulis said. She learned from Aryn. Sari must have relayed it to the masters. How horrible. They were strong, intelligent leaders. This will really unhinge her.