Broken in Twilight

by Kim ten Tusscher

  “Is this the room where the sorcerer is kept?”

  One of the soldiers nodded. “Are you Tehmuga’s soldier?”

  “I used to be. Now I serve Pontifex Zuzeca. I’m grateful for the opportunity he has given me.”

  “Why are you here?” the other one asked.

  “I’d like to see if this really is the man that we took captive.”

  The soldiers exchanged a glance and decided there was no harm in it. “He’s quite an attraction. We get people who want to see him every day. Be careful, he might try to convert you to his God.” They laughed.

  Kasimirh went inside. He waited for the door to close before he approached the cage. The prisoner was lying with his back towards Kasimirh.

  “Wrong! It’s all wrong! It’s too late!” The man kept rattling on, without making any sense. He could easily pass for a crazed prophet looking for followers. “The world is broken.”

  Kasimirh walked around the cage. He was startled. They had given the man his clothes. There were burn wounds all over his body. The prisoner, however, didn’t really seem to feel the pain. He was completely absorbed by the words he spoke.

  Kasimirh knelt in front of him and put his hand through the bars. At once, the cold spread through his arm. Nevertheless, he laid his hand on the man’s shoulder. There was brief eye contact, before the man went back to vacantly staring off in the distance.

  “They’ll come. You’ll see that it’s true!”

  “Who are you talking about?” Kasimirh whispered.

  “But it’s too late. Too late. Too late!”

  The door opened and Kasimirh jumped back up. Zuzeca entered. “And? Is this the sorcerer you caught?”

  Kasimirh nodded. He rubbed his arm that was still feeling cold. The door closed again.

  “Who is he?” Kasimirh pointed at the cage.

  “Some crazy person who was harassing villagers in the border region. He won’t be missed or recognized.” Zuzeca looked at the prisoner for a while. “In a different day and age he would have been honoured as a Seer. We would have interpreted his message as a warning from the Parents.” He shrugged. “Perhaps Margal was just as crazy.”

  The prisoner started pointing at Zuzeca. His eyes looked deadly serious. “It’s because of you.” Then he lay back down. A shiver ran through Zuzeca’s body.

  “I was looking for you, because we need to talk. It might be best to do that somewhere else. Follow me.”

  They walked through the hall in silence. Kasimirh looked up. The roof was decorated with paintings of heaven, inspired by Margal’s description of it: a cold world where everybody walked in line. Just like the group of students he had encountered earlier. The hedgerows were trimmed in geometrical shapes and were the only contrast with the white stones. This picture was the exact opposite of the opulence that Jakob promised his followers.

  Soldiers opened the double doors to Zuzeca’s rooms. The stone floors were covered with thin rugs. The furniture in the room was of outstanding quality. Expensive paintings of Margal decorated the walls.

  “I don’t understand why you always want to be surrounded by Her,” Kasimirh said.

  Zuzeca shrugged. “They’re pieces of art. Look at the way her clothes flow around her body. Truly lifelike. The jewels are beautifully painted. You can sometimes see the room reflected in the gems. That’s why I love to look at these paintings. But that’s all, they have no meaning for me.” He sat down. “However, it would be strange for a pontifex to have no portraits of his Goddess.”

  Kasimirh glanced at the painting. Zuzeca was right in all respects. “What did you want to see me about?”

  “The pontifices will be arriving soon, and I will be appointed Maximus.”

  “Will they all accept it?”

  “They don’t have much choice. Now that I have captured a sorcerer, and Tehmuga has been removed, all they can do is give me the power that I deserve. Waglula and Magan won’t be happy.”

  Kasimirh nodded. “But if everything goes as expected, they won’t get much chance to object.”

  “Indeed. My son has sent me a message that the priests are ready to leave Ilahidir. Only the Jakobinians who have arrived in the past few months will remain behind to be educated and keep the city running.”

  Smiling, Kasimirh leaned back. Finally, things were being set into motion. The preparations had taken more time than expected, but suddenly everything had gained momentum. The Naftalians were still ignorant, but soon all would be different. The peace and quiet that the appointment of a Maximus would bring, was only the calm before the storm.

  Nevertheless, there was something he worried about. “How do we keep this a secret from Yvar? Right now, he thinks I’ve been defeated, but once he hears about the changes, he’ll know that we’re in this together.”

  “Yvar has handed us a solution himself.”

  Kasimirh frowned.

  Zuzeca laughed. “He’s going to marry my daughter, and of course he has invited me to his wedding.”

  “A permit into Nadesh,” Kasimirh mused. That opened up so many opportunities! “When’s the wedding?”

  “Seventeen days from now. We need to leave right after my appointment.”

  Kasimirh did the math. It would take the pontifices a few days to return to their own lands. His priests would need even more time to scatter all over Naftalia. By the time the Naftalians were being converted en masse, Zuzeca and he would have more than enough of a head start. No Merzian spy would be able to inform Yvar of Zuzeca’s treachery on time. He smiled. Things were coming together even faster than he had anticipated.

  25

  The conversations of the pontifices died down as Kasimirh entered the room. This time he wasn’t wearing the uniform that Zuzeca had given him, but the green caftan with the fishes and the azure-blue stole. Confident, Kasimirh walked past the soldiers who were lined up along the walls. Zuzeca’s bodyguards stood among the soldiers of the other pontifices. Kasimirh stopped behind the only chair that was still empty. Today was an important day. One of the most beautiful days in ages, and the first of a string of beautiful days.

  The pontifices were seated at a long table. They quietly resumed their conversations. Kasimirh spotted Waglula. His fists were clenched, his knuckles white, his mouth an angry line. Magan sat next to him. Kasimirh heard them grumble about Zuzeca. They had only just missed out on the powerful position they had coveted so badly, and they weren’t going down without a fight. It pleased Kasimirh to think that they wouldn’t stand a chance.

  The doors opened again. Zuzeca stood in the entrance and glanced around the room. He nodded at Kasimirh, causing even more confusion among the pontifices. Zuzeca walked to the empty chair at the head of the table, but didn’t sit down.

  “Now that I rule Naftalia, I will carry through some reforms.” Zuzeca beckoned Kasimirh.

  The sorcerer picked up a bowl and walked to the front of the room, followed closely by the suspicious glares of the pontifices. The bustle in the room grew louder as he put down the bowl in front of Zuzeca and poured water into it. The Maximus nodded.

  “I expect you to accept and propagate these reforms. If not, you will suffer the fate of a heretic.”

  Waglula and Magan leaned towards each other and conferred. There were red blotches on Magan’s neck. Kasimirh pulled them apart and went to stand between them.

  Zuzeca indicated for all the pontifices to rise. He grabbed the hands of the pontifices to either side of him. Reluctantly, they followed his example until they all formed a circle.

  “I want you to repeat after me,” Zuzeca commanded, waiting briefly before he continued. “I believe in the miracles that You have performed, and cherish the life that You have given us. I promise to live my life the way You want me to. I believe with all my heart that You are the True God, Creator of the world and the people, Keeper of knowledge. I thank You for the Light in my life.”

  Zuzeca glanced at the group as the men repeated the sentences, although somewhat reluctant
ly. Margal wasn’t normally worshipped this way. Kasimirh nodded at Zuzeca. He gathered some magic in his hand. It was wonderful to have his magical powers flow freely through his body again.

  “Lord Jakob, today I turn to You!”

  “What! This is outrageous!” Waglula extricated himself form the circle and wanted to walk around the table towards Zuzeca. Kasimirh grabbed him by the shoulder. The magic caused a flash at its release. A smouldering pile of ashes was all that remained of the pontifex.

  Kasimirh staggered. He had been too eager and had used much more magic than necessary.

  “A sorcerer!” Magan called out.

  The other pontifices were shocked as well. They all turned to face Zuzeca. One half of the group looked confused, and the other seemed to expect the new Maximus to intervene. As if they had forgotten that it had been Zuzeca who had let this man in.

  “Indeed, a sorcerer. Kasimirh will show us the right path: Jakob’s path,” Zuzeca said, sitting down.

  Magan beckoned his bodyguards. Zuzeca’s soldiers stopped them. There was fighting along the walls.

  Meanwhile, Kasimirh had regained his breath. He killed Magan with a ball of fire and then helped the soldiers.

  At long last, everybody calmed down, albeit reluctantly. Without saying anything, Zuzeca picked up a pen and wrote his name in the water. He passed the bowl on to his right and gave the pontifex the pen. The pontifex hesitated, but then he added his name to Jakob’s list as well.

  Not everyone was prepared to accept Jakob. Kasimirh approached a pontifex who passed on the bowl without writing his name in the water. Kasimirh laid his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Are you sure that you want to reject Jakob?”

  Ashen-faced, the man nodded.

  “In that case I hope Margal will reward you for it,” Kasimirh scoffed. The pontifex twitched a few times before he sank to the ground, lifeless.

  There was no further resistance. The other pontifices chose their lives over their religion. Some out of indifference, others out of fear, as their own religion had made them well aware of the consequences of refusal. No one chose Jakob out of conviction, because they knew too little about their new God.

  “I want you to convert all your followers to Jakob. Priests, trained by Kasimirh, will help you. People who refuse, will suffer the same fate as the heretics.” Zuzeca pointed at the bodies. “In that respect, nothing really changes. What does change, however, is that we’ll be rewarded for our loyalty towards God during our life and we don’t have to wait until after we’re dead. Let’s thank Jakob for this. Kasimirh, will you lead us in prayer?”

  “There’s nothing I’d rather do, Zuzeca.”

  26

  Ghalatea used her elbow to push open the door. There was a profound silence in Nigesanla’s rooms. The door to her bedroom was open. Ghalatea put down the serving tray on the table and entered the bedroom. Nigesanla was lying on her stomach on her bed. There were two dresses hanging on the closet. The wedding dress was going to have to wait till tomorrow. Today, the tea ceremony was taking place.

  Ghalatea carefully placed her hand on Nigesanla’s shoulder. “Wake up, my lady.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  “It’s almost time.”

  Without opening her eyes, Nigesanla waved Ghalatea away. “Come back later.”

  “I have to help you get ready.”

  “I don’t want to.” Nevertheless, Nigesanla sat up and stretched herself. There were bags under her eyes. “Oh, I’m so tired. I’m extremely nervous.”

  “Everything will be fine. Come, I brought you breakfast. After you’ve eaten, I’ll get you ready.”

  Nigesanla fell back on the bed. “I don’t want to eat, I feel sick. It’s best if I sleep some more.”

  Ghalatea insisted, but Nigesanla didn’t even bother to answer her any more.

  Sighing loudly, Ghalatea left the bedroom. Ever since the engagement, Nigesanla had been behaving like a spoilt brat. It was Ghalatea’s task to help Nigesanla prepare, but it was hard to motivate her.

  Ghalatea picked up a book from the floor. It was about Merzia’s history. She did have to hand it to Nigesanla that she tried her hardest to learn about her new country.

  Fifteen minutes later, Ghalatea went back into the bedroom. She raised her voice. “And now you really need to get out of bed. It’s my duty to prepare you for the ceremony, but I can’t do that without your cooperation.”

  Grumbling, Nigesanla got up. She looked in the mirror. Horrified, she clasped her hands before her eyes. Then she tried to push her face back into shape. “I can’t face them like this!”

  Nigesanla was talking about Merzia’s most influential men, who had gathered to attend the ceremony. Ferhdessar was going to be there, and the generals, as well as business men and priests. It was a test to see if she would make the king a good wife. Nigesanla’s father was going to be there, too.

  Ghalatea smiled. “By the time I’m done, you’ll look beautiful again. Let me wash you first.”

  Nigesanla resigned herself to her fate. She looked scared, rather than happy. Ghalatea was starting to feel sorry for her. “It’s just a formality,” she said in an attempt to soothe her.

  Nigesanla gave her a devastating look. “It’s humiliating to be put on show like some kind of incubator. That’s how they look at me.” Ghalatea cast down her eyes. Nigesanla was right, she felt the same way. Ghalatea could think of no other reason why the king had chosen this woman. She was so different from Caliste.

  Nigesanla sighed. “I feel it every time lord Yvar introduces me to someone. It’s the reason why he chose me. I’m glad that he, nevertheless, or maybe because of that, treats me with respect. He’s the only one. Others just see it as another reason to despise me.”

  “You’re privileged to be allowed to marry the king, lady.”

  “You’re right. But I could very well do without all those ceremonies where people come to inspect me.”

  They were silent as Nigesanla was being dressed. Ghalatea fidgeted at her skirts and retied the laces on her back.

  “You’re ready, my lady. Everybody will be stunned when they see you.”

  “Thank you Ancilla Princeps.” Nigesanla’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.

  There was a knock at the door. Ghalatea walked into the other room. Rogan entered. Now that he was on the mend, Yvar had appointed him as Nigesanla’s personal bodyguard. Rogan had accepted, but Ghalatea knew that he had done so half-heartedly. In Rogan’s eyes a job like this was an honorary post for a useless soldier. A fob off, now that he couldn’t fight any more. When push came to shove, the Royal Guard would be around to protect Nigesanla.

  Rogan’s movements were still stiff. With every unexpected move, Ghalatea could see the pain in his eyes. His abdominal injury hadn’t completely healed yet.

  “You got hurt because of me,” she sighed. She felt guilty. She had asked him if he hadn’t received her letter. It turned out that her warning had been the reason he had gone to Kandar. Rogan knew that there wasn’t anyone there to protect the villagers, so he had willingly walked into danger, despite the fact that he knew he was going to get hurt badly.

  Rogan smiled at her. “Nonsense, it was the servus who’s now pushing up the daisies. You saved many villagers. If you hadn’t sent me that letter, everyone in that village would have been killed.” He kissed her. “Is the lady ready?”

  “She’s in the bedroom.”

  Rogan walked on. He glanced at Nigesanla before he bowed. He moaned softly every time he bowed for her. To Ghalatea’s annoyance, Nigesanla had never told him to skip the formality until he was completely healed.

  “I’ve come to escort you, my lady.”

  Nigesanla nodded and followed Rogan out of her room. Ghalatea followed them.

  Ghalatea opened the door and announced Nigesanla. The men rose to their feet, and Rogan and Ghalatea took up their places next to the door.

  Shoulders straight, Nigesanla walked past the men. After she had sat down, everyone r
esumed their places on the low benches that formed a circle around the low table. Everything that Nigesanla needed was set out on the table. Only Yvar and Nigesanla were actually seated at the table. There was water boiling on a stove. With everybody seated, Yvar nodded as a sign that Nigesanla could begin.

  Hands shaking, she picked up the kettle. Then she put it down again. She looked at all the items on the table as if she had never seen them before in her life. Her hand touched everything. Ghalatea was scared that Nigesanla had forgotten what she was supposed to do. She had to restrain herself not to whisper to her to pick the green tea-leaves. As the room was deathly quiet, everybody would hear her if she so much as moved.

  To her relief, Nigesanla put the leaves in the kettle. Ghalatea didn’t want Nigesanla to fail. Everybody knew that the Ancilla Princeps had helped the lady prepare, so Nigesanla’s shame would be her shame as well. Nigesanla poured some boiling water on the leaves, swirled the water around in the kettle and poured it off again. With great concentration she measured the right amount of sugar and added it with some fresh mint to the other leaves. Her hand reached for some tea leaves on a silver platter. Ghalatea bit her lip. Nigesanla’s hand stopped in motion and moved back to the boiled water to pour it back into the kettle. Only now could she add the fresh tea.

  Nigesanla put the jar that had contained the water next to the table. Then she put the tea on the stove. It had to boil for a few minutes. Relieved, she looked at Yvar. His face was emotionless, but Ghalatea did notice he quickly winked at the young lady. Nigesanla visibly relaxed.

  “This is the second time we have performed this ceremony in honour of the king’s wedding,” one of the merchants said.

  “Caliste made a profound impression on me back then. Her tea was delicious. Do you all remember?” another asked.

  Nigesanla’s face grew stony.

  “It was a foretaste of how she was to develop herself. She was a wonderful queen,” general Zander said in praise of Yvar’s first wife.

  Ferhdessar briefly looked at Yvar, but didn’t say anything.