Ghalatea’s eyes had already swept past the scene when she stopped to take another good look at the man. It was Pavel, the man that had brought Lilith to Nadesh. She realized that this was an important clue.
Rogan was engaged with three servi. They circled around him and attacked in turns. Rogan tried to keep them at a distance with his sword. He chopped off a Muircadh’s arm. One of the others dived at Rogan and knocked him over. None of the other soldiers managed to reach him in time.
Ghalatea ran towards him. The two servi threw themselves on her husband. Rogan managed to kick one off. Then he screamed. Ghalatea shuddered. This wasn’t good.
One of the servi was dragged away by a soldier, the other one was killed. Ghalatea knelt beside Rogan. His side was slit open and his guts were coming out. She carefully held him in her arms. There was still fighting all around them.
Ghalatea woke up.
Tears were streaming down her face. Shaking, she searched for the light switch over her bed. Rogan had still been alive at the end of her dream, but… She discarded the thought and got up. He was still alive.
She knelt down in front of her little altar. There were twelve figurines on it – one for each God – placed in a semicircle. The same number of candles stood on the altar. She lighted the candle for Wigg, the God of War. She noted that she would soon need a new one. Again.
“Wigg, protect my husband. Make sure that he’s safe.” Her voice quivered. She tried not to cry, but she couldn’t hold back the tears. “Please, don’t take him from me.”
Ghalatea was convinced that it had been a portentous dream. She wasn’t sure whether it had happened yet, or that it was going to happen, but the injuries that Rogan had sustained were real. It would take a long time for him to recover from them. Maybe the soldiers could bring him to the fort, but would he be safe there? She had heard that there was fighting there as well. He wouldn’t survive a long journey. Right now he was still alive, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still die soon.
She touched her shoulder and pulled her nightgown down a little bit. Her shoulder was red and swollen. Then she looked at the figurine of Jakob. How could any God allow a war being fought in his name? She reached out, but thought better of it. She had felt the urge to stow away the figurine before, but once again she resisted the desire.
The clock indicated that is was three in the morning. Ghalatea decided to stay awake, despite the early hour. She wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. She was going to write Rogan a letter. Maybe she could still warn him
14
Yvar knelt in front of the altar in the alcove of his bedroom. He lit the blue candle for Phoibos and said a prayer. He had to focus to stop his mind from wandering. After the prayer he blew out the candle and gave his thoughts free rein.
Now and again, he received messages from Zuzeca, who hadn’t been all that successful gathering information so far. Or was it that he wasn’t in any hurry to do so, Yvar wondered. At times, the pontifex seemed as indifferent as during the negotiations. Perhaps he was too busy with the power struggles among the pontifices. Yvar received weekly messages about the rising tensions among Naftalia’s various armies.
Yvar sighed. To reach Kasimirh, he had to pass through two groups of fighting lions, running the risk of these two groups banding together and turning against him, because he was an even bigger enemy. Or at least a more despicable one.
Yvar bent over and picked up the figurine of Jakob. This was almost the exact same figurine that Kasimirh had sent him months ago. The only difference was the figurine’s posture. This Jakob didn’t have his arms spread, instead he was holding a staff in his right hand. Yvar’s fingers touched the damage near the shoulder. Infuriated after the attempt on his life, he had thrown the figurine across the room.
“I hope you have forgiven me, Lord.”
They were on the verge of war, and Jakob played an important part in it. Yvar should have thought about that when he had taken out his anger on the figurine. Today, he was going to make amends. It was about time.
Ferhdessar entered the room. Yvar quickly put down the figurine and rose to his feet. The sorcerer gave him an appraising look.
“You look like you didn’t get much sleep.”
“That’s because I didn’t. I’m very worried. I know how to be a king at peacetime, but am I also the right man to lead the people in times of war?” He shook his head. His thoughts wandered off to the refugees he had taken care of. He thought about Ghalatea. “I’m not cut out for this. As the second son I was trained by my mother to take care of the injured. Not to wield a sword and behold a battlefield. That was my brother’s job.”
“But this is the way it is, you’ll have to do what’s right for Merzia. Don’t make it harder on yourself than it already is. You are just the face that addresses the people to inspire them to fight or bring them hope. Other people can tell you which message it is that you should bring across.”
“You have changed, Ferhdessar. Sometimes I wonder what happened to my good friend. The man who used to stand by my side.”
“I am on your side, Yvar. We both want the same thing.”
Yvar nodded, “A future for Merzia.”
No matter how difficult he felt his task was, he would do anything to protect his country. Today, he was going to take the next step.
In the hall he was joined by some bodyguards and servants. Yvar was looking for Nigesanla. She accompanied him to the temples every day. He hadn’t asked her to, but she had insisted on it herself. He was disappointed that he didn’t see her today, but he suppressed that feeling. He did see Ghalatea. Her eyes looked worried. Yvar resolved to ask her what was wrong later on.
More servants were waiting outside. They were holding the horses for the three coaches. Harald escorted the group to them.
“We’ll walk today,” Yvar called.
“But Phoibos’s temple is too far to walk,” Harald objected.
“We’re not going to Her temple. I want to visit Jakob’s temple.”
Surprised, Ferhdessar said, “But we went there two days ago.”
“Yes, and we’re going again today,” was Yvar’s brusque reply.
“What are you up to?” Ferhdessar asked, feeling suspicious.
Yvar didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at the sorcerer. Ferhdessar touched Yvar’s arm, but Yvar evaded him and rushed after the bodyguards.
At his altar, Yvar had decided to go through with a plan he had been contemplating for weeks. He had never spoken to Ferhdessar about it. The sorcerer wouldn’t understand and was likely to try and talk him out of it. Yvar really needed to talk to Jakob, and it had to be today, before he changed his mind again.
After a short walk through the city they reached the shrine. The building was hedged by acacia shrubs. To the Merzian faith, Jakob wasn’t a very important God, so His temple was but small. Few people came here to honour him, except on Saint’s Day. But on that day, the God’s statue was carried outside and there still wasn’t any need for a larger temple.
The priest welcomed the king without bowing to him and led the way into the temple. They first had to walk through a corridor, which served as a vestibule to the inner chamber where the rituals took place. They entered the inner chamber through double doors.
This chamber held Jakob’s statue. There was a live snake draped around His shoulders. It had his head raised and stared at the visitors. Its mouth was next to Jakob’s left ear. The priest and the king bowed to Jakob. The king’s retinue did so as well, but they kept their distance.
When Yvar rose he spotted Nigesanla. He smiled at her. She blushed and returned the smile.
Feeling at bit more confident, Yvar turned to face the priest. In a subdued voice he said, “I’d like to talk to Jakob.”
“That’s not possible. Tell me what you wish to know and I’ll ask Him.”
Yvar shook his head. “This is something that I have to do, personally.”
“It’s highly unusual for someone who is not a
priest to talk to Jakob. You know this.”
“But it’s not forbidden, right? Merzia’s future is on the line. I need to know where Jakob stands in the upcoming war.”
“You need to have faith…”
“Faith is not enough.” Yvar spoke louder. He was starting to lose his patience. “This has an impact on countless lives. Why can’t I, as a believer, talk to Him about the things that worry me? I can do so in other temples.”
Still reluctant, the priest nodded. “All right. Follow me.”
They both walked to the door behind the statue.
Ferhdessar stood up. “What are you going to do?”
“This is something between me and Jakob.”
“You can’t be serious, Yvar. Have you lost your…”
Yvar turned around and walked up to the sorcerer. “I will not have you speak to me in that tone. Never! And most certainly not in public! Ask yourself the question you were about to ask me.”
Yvar joined the priest again. Before he entered the sanctuary, he looked over his shoulder once more. Ferhdessar’s eyes sent him a warning. Then the door closed.
Along the walls there were dozens of glass storage bins containing snakes. In the middle of the room stood a narrow bed covered with leather. There was a little cupboard at the head of the bed.
“Do you know what’s going to happen?”
Yvar shook his head. He was getting increasingly nervous. “I know that you can talk to Jakob, and I’d like to learn how to do that myself.”
“Two things need to happen. First, you’ll drink an extract of acacia seeds. It will release the soul from the body, so that it is free to travel to heaven. After that, a snake bite will help you get in touch with Lord Jakob.”
Yvar swallowed and his gaze wandered along the reptiles. Their forked tongues kept coming out as if they could taste his fear. Nevertheless, he nodded. “If that’s what it takes, then that’s what I’ll do.”
“Which snake would you like to use in the ritual?” the priest asked.
“I don’t know. I want to be sure that I’ll get to talk to Lord Jakob.”
Yvar followed the priest’s gaze. His eyes rested on a silver-coloured snake that lay curled up in its storage bin. Its eyes followed the king. The priest turned around. “Then perhaps the blue night snake is a good choice.”
The snake that the priest referred to looked bored, hanging form a branch. Yvar wasn’t even sure if the animal was still alive.
“Why don’t you recommend the silver one?”
The priest turned around and looked at the other snake. The animal had lifted its head and hissed.
“Are you sure you want to use the Jakob’s adder?”
The name removed all doubt. “I’m certain. What do I have to do?”
“Take a seat.”
Yvar sat down on the bed. The priest handed him a mug containing a lukewarm drink. Ignoring the foul smell, Yvar emptied the mug in one draught. The world around him became a blur. The priest helped him to lie down. Staring at the ceiling, Yvar felt how cold fingers undid the buttons of his tunic and uncovered his neck. It seemed as if the room grew darker and darker, and it felt as if something was pulling at him. Everything started to spin.
The priest appeared over him with the Jakob’s adder wrapped around his arm. “Are you ready?”
Yvar felt the urge to shake his head, but he no longer had control over his body. Which was just as well, because he didn’t want to stop at all. No matter how scared he was, he had to persevere. A soft “yes” escaped his lips.
The snake struck and buried its fangs in Yvar’s neck. Yvar clenched his teeth. The room started spinning even faster. The priest left his side.
The darkness lessened and the room became brighter. Yvar felt like he was floating. The spinning had stopped and his nausea was less overwhelming. Where was he?
The world around him was vague. At random intervals he saw movement from the corner of his eye, but the minute Yvar tried to focus, it was gone again. Out of nowhere, he heard a voice calling his name. He heard the voice inside his head, booming against his temples. It was overpowering and therefore extremely clear.
“Yvar. You wish to talk to me. Speak!”
“Is it You, Lord Jakob?”
“Who else? Speak!”
“I want to know what to do in the upcoming battle. Did you really instruct Kasimirh to unite the world?”
The answer was clear. So clear, indeed, that Yvar had no doubt that he had heard right.
What has gotten in to him to go ahead and do something like this? Ferhdessar was thinking to himself, grumbling about Yvar. He didn’t know which rituals Jakob’s priests performed, but he had heard hair-raising rumours. All he could do right now was wait.
The guards were sitting on the benches along the walls. Nigesanla was biting her nails. Ghalatea was sitting next to her and alternately looked at the door and Ferhdessar.
Ferhdessar was pacing the small room. Now and again, he stopped in front of the door to the sanctuary, hoping to hear what was going on inside. The wood, however, was too thick to allow any sound to pass through. He sighed and started pacing again. He stopped in front of the statue. He studied every detail, as if expecting something to have changed. The snake gave him an inquisitive look. Occasionally its tongue came out.
Jakob was the God who explained the unexplainable. Most people considered magic as something unexplainable as well, and therefore this God was one of Ferhdessar’s patron saints. His father had taught him about Jakob, as had his teacher. Jakob had never been anything other than a kind God. Ferhdessar was still convinced that Kasimirh wasn’t acting in His name, but sometimes a simmer of doubt popped up in the back of his mind. Yvar was clearly more worried about Kasimirh’s sincerity. Otherwise, he would never have asked permission to enter the Snake Room.
Ferhdessar snapped out of his contemplation, because he heard screaming. It sounded soft. He was instantly aware that the noise could be coming from the room where Yvar and the priest were. Before he could yank open the door, he heard it again, only louder this time. It wasn’t panicked shouting, but more of an excited roar, almost immediately followed by a thumping sound. The guards jumped to their feet. They looked around, unsure what to do. Their gaze went from the door that their king had gone through to the double doors where the sound was the loudest.
“You go and stand next to the door to the Snake Room,” Harald commanded.
Ferhdessar joined the two men Harald had spoken to. The other guards lined up in front of the double doors that led outside. They had their swords drawn and were ready to attack anyone who entered the room. Ghalatea was standing, but as she didn’t know what to do, she sat back down again.
There was the sound of glass shattering. The screaming and roaring became louder. It wasn’t clear what the people outside were shouting. Ferhdessar quietly knocked on the door. There was no answer.
“Fire!” one of the men at the other door called out.
Ferhdessar could smell the smoke. Harald gave him a questioning look. The sorcerer banged on the door.
“Yvar. You have to come out now!”
Still no answer. Harald had ordered three guards to go outside and see what was going on. The corridor was already filled with smoke. Harald quickly closed the door, but smoke crept underneath it into the room.
The moment that Ferhdessar wanted to yank open the door to the Snake Room, the priest came outside. He was supporting the king. Ferhdessar grabbed Yvar from him and walked towards the exit. The corridor was ablaze.
“Harald, hold the king!”
Ferhdessar handed Yvar to the guard and raised his hands. A shockwave pushed back the fire. Ferhdessar dragged Harald and the king with him. He shoved the door open. Outside they would be safe. He cast a glance at the crowd that was gathered at the temple. They were still screaming and roaring, and people were throwing burning torches through the shattered windows.
As soon as the crowd spotted the king, it became quiet. So
me individuals tried to get away, but most people fell to their knees. Ferhdessar looked at Harald, but he didn’t have to say anything. The commander of the Royal Guard knew what to do. Ferhdessar took the king again. These people weren’t after the king and didn’t form a threat. Harald was already rounding up the crowd. Ferhdessar beckoned the priest to follow and brought the king back to the palace as fast as he could.
“Tell me which snake it was!”
Ferhdessar had brought the king directly to his sleeping quarters. The king was still unconscious. Ghalatea sat beside his bed and was wiping the sweat off his brow with a cold cloth.
The priest sat in a chair on the other side of the room. He was staring fixedly out the window. There was a dark plume of smoke to be seen. Not long after they had come out, the roof of the temple had caught fire. “My snakes,” the priest whispered, “they’re all going to die.”
“Answer my question!” Ferhdessar ordered him.
Without taking his eyes off the view outside, the priest answered. Ferhdessar mumbled the answer to himself. The door was yanked open, and a surgeon rushed into the room. He placed a box on the floor and felt Yvar’s pulse.
“It was the Jakob’s adder,” said Ferhdessar.
The surgeon opened his box and rummaged through the bottles.
The priest had walked up to Ferhdessar. “He asked for a conversation with Jakob. This snake helps to open doors. Lord Yvar didn’t want to run the risk of missing any revelations. I tried to make him choose another snake.” He eyed the bed. “He’s in a deep trance. I haven’t seen anything like this before, but I’m convinced that he can hear Jakob right now.”
“A trance?” Ferhdessar repeated outraged. “If we don’t do anything this will be his death-sleep.”
The king started to heave. Ghalatea quickly turned him onto his side. She carefully cleaned the vomit from his mouth, before she turned him on his back again.
The surgeon tied a band around Yvar’s arm and made preparations to administer an injection.
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