"But how dark, I wonder? How many people must be impaled alive over her whims? How many children must be sacrificed on the alters of her gods? Even Hec is not so cruel as this Nimnet. I see no difference between this one and Tasi."
"Only in the darkest day do we see the true light. Until then we must endure it. Most of those of our people who had the good sense to leave Jhis when the king married this monster have saved themselves from the worst of it. Remember that. The warning went out long ago to leave Jhis because of its coming destruction. Those who are truly loyal followed that counsel. We will not be shielded from troubles but it has been born out that when we follow holy counsel we do not suffer as much as those who ignore it."
"You are right. It is just that times are so uncertain and frightening now."
"Rest assured, I know this, most of all. But I also know other things." Ilim's eyes grew bright. "He is coming, my brother." There were a precious few Ainash priests who had left the Golden Temple either literally or in a spiritual sense, and followed Ilim. He kept in contact with the ones who were not in Jhis, ministering to them, traveling undercover to speak with them and encourage them when he could. They were scattered throughout the land. It was this tiny group who knew Rapheth was the chosen one of God and of this they said nothing to anyone outside of their group. Any knowledge hidden from the authorities pertaining to the boy meant death.
"Come Rapheth, it is time, unless you will go to Night Prayer?" Rapheth shook his head.
"Well Dalet, I thank you for opening your home each week for the readings. May God bless you and your dear wife."
"And may you always be blessed, Ilim." Said Dalet. They gathered their bags and filed out behind the others, hugging their brethren and saying greetings of love before going their own way.
On the way back to the house Ilim finally broached the subject.
"So, you and your friends went down to that rathole again, even though I told you not to! Now three men are dead because of your foolishness!" Rapheth was shocked. Ilim snorted derisively.
"Really? You think because I am old that I am senile as well? You thought that I would not know?"
The boy's face fell. He knew better than to ask how Ilim knew. The old man just seemed to know things.
"Your mother told me. She keeps her ear to the street when I am out and about and while you are apparently widdling your life away, Rapheth!" They climbed the steps and went inside.
"Listen to me! I do not tell you not to do this or that for my own good but for yours. Wicked people frequent taverns and alehouses for no-good things. Now, more than ever. I am surprised you have not come down with some strange ailment of sores on your goah yet, boy." Rapheth drew himself up in a huff.
"Do not act proudly now that you have been found out."
"I would never do something to get a shriveled, sore-ridden goah, father!"
"Well what else am I to expect? You hang around prostitutes, drunks and gamblers and thieves, you and your friends! I have a mind to tell their families what Ephron and Shukala have been up to!" He softened his voice. "Look. There is another reason, Rapheth. Come sit down. It is time I explained this in full to you. You are of age now." He motioned towards the table. Rapheth put the bag down on the table and sat down. Ilim removed the many books and scrolls piled there.
"You are nearly a man grown now. In some places in this world you would be married with a child on the way. Or conducting military campaigns." Ilim grew pensive as he gazed at Rapheth.
"When you were younger Zigal and I only told you bits and pieces about your true heritage for your own safety. Your father was once king of this land."
"King! Mother told me that he was a powerful man but she refused to say any more."
"For your safety and hers. Your father was King Khalit, who died in battle fifteen years ago." Rapheth blew in a sharp breath. His eyes, lit with that ever strange fire, grew bright. Ilim had always found them intense, powerful and odd. Nothing like Khalit's eyes. In fact, he did not look very much like Khalit in his looks or coloring except his hair, which was a riot of loose black and brown curls. And he had a wild streak. That was Khalit in him. Ilim went on.
"Your mother. . . " he began, slowly.
". . is the queen," finished Rapheth. Ilim jerked his head in astonishment.
"But how did you know this?" Rapheth looked solemn, far beyond his fifteen years.
"I saw her once when she was here in the city to inaugurate a new college. I felt something stir in me, as if I knew her. It was a strange feeling. I look just like her. As if I sprang from her, solely."
"Did anyone notice you?" Rapheth shook his head.
"No. When I am outside of our neighborhood. . .or underground" he added sheepishly, "I cover my head and my face with a scarf or rag, like the Gilphaens or the Karig. Some people here think I am a Gilphaen." Ilim heaved a great sigh.
"Did she see you?"
"No. She was so. . .serene and beautiful, like the carved statues of Rhuctium by the artists at the art school."
"Yes. I know. She holds many enthrall to her. Be careful for she is wicked beyond reasoning. Zigal can tell you of her own experiences, like when she ordered all of the king's offspring and concubines to be killed. You would have been murdered too. The only reason why you are here today is because of Zigal and Queen Diti's belief in holy prophecy. Those faithful women. Poor Queen Diti. . " Ilim began, his face fell. His eyes filled with tears.
"What happened to Queen Diti?"
"Well, it is said officially that she fell from her balcony window one morning after having had too much drink. But many believe she was murdered. In fact, we know it in our souls. She was a holy woman. Devout. She rarely drank wine or spirits. But she had visions of you, child and she made a way to preserve you alive. If only she had fled Jhis sooner. She loved the city and the palace life too much, I think. Even so, may she come to be in Paradise in the end." Ilim wiped his face, got up and went to his writing desk and pulled out a stack of leaf pages in wide cream colored paper.
"I have been working on this for some time now. It may seem strange to you that Zigal and I have you writing and reading the holy book and history and even law but you are meant for great things."
"I do not feel that way. I just feel lost sometimes."
"You are humble enough and that is a good thing. It is fine for one to feel afraid at times. It is normal but always remember even in your darkest hours God will turn to you when you call to Him in prayer. He will be there for you, you especially. One day I will not be here to teach and instruct you in the law. One day neither me or Zigal will be here to guide you. You will have to know it for yourself and you know many things well enough but you must take this most seriously Rapheth. One day it will be up to you to lead many peoples back to the Red Path. In order to do that you must know the path and believe in it." He handed Rapheth the papers. They were his writings of his book, The Book of Ilim the Prophet.
"You will have this added to the Holy Writings?"
"I do not know. All I know is that I must write down these prophecies God has given me. The tide of world history rises and falls, reaches an apex and rolls down again and future peoples may take comfort in these words during their own times of distress and learn from them. One never knows the future in its completeness but this is a great work I have been given. It must be written down and I have written down as much as I can remember. Please read them. You are the first to read them. I shall go, once again, on a mission. Airend-Ur has commanded and this time I may not come back. Someone else, an old acquaintance of mine is coming here in my stead to instruct you and help Zigal care for the household."
"Tell me father, what is this commission before you go? And who is this man that is coming?" Rapheth felt a desperate feeling rise in him. Ilim was the only father he knew.
"A broken vessel the land has become and especially Jhis, the seat of power. A vessel, worthless and good for nothing."
"A broken vessel must be ground down and put
to better use." Said Rapheth. Ilim nodded.
"Shattered to pieces, and this is like the land of Hybron and the city of Jhis, especially. Its end is drawing near. It has been found worthless and there is hardly anyone left doing good. It will be shattered like a worthless vessel. This is my message. That no one wants to hear. But hear it, they must. Remember Raptheth, you are the crest of the prophecy's fulfillment. But watch those you bring close to you. Your father did not watch carefully and he brought serpents into his bosom and he was killed for it. Beware you do not do the same and if you do reject the law of God, He will find another, for His purpose will never be thwarted, only re-routed."
"If my true mother is so evil, why did He allow me to come from her?"
"Why not? God can use anyone at will to bring about His own will. Wicked though she is, she is of the blood of the Reshaim, like your father. The Reshaim served a very unique purpose, Rapheth. God promised that a king would rise from their blood again and He will keep that promise and find a way to work through whatever means exists."
"Why did they exist in the first place? Everything about them is hidden in mystery."
"During the Age of Creation there was a great rebellion lead by the unnamed one in heaven. You know the account. The rebellion was the reason for the Reshaim, to bring those among mankind who would choose the Father back to Him. Among other things. But the most important reason for their existence was to provide a solution for the mess created after the rebellion, to bring us back in harmony with the original order of things, back to the First Pillar. Strabs were one of the original Mother Tribes and I perceive that not all of them are evil, though I do not know any that are not, personally. The blood of the Red King must be sacred royal blood, Reshaim blood to be acceptable for the purpose. That Reshaim line was preserved through the Dark Age, the Age of the Twilight Kingdoms, to our present day. We are still under the Age of the Twilight Kingdoms. That Khalit happened to meet and marry another tribeswoman of the blood seems incidental to the eye of man but served the grand Purpose set long ago. One can be evil and still give birth to something good. Sometimes. Why should you be thrown away because of your mother or your father?" Rapheth looked thoughtful for a while. They were silent for a long time, then the boy turned to the papers and started reading them as Ilim prepared his bag to leave.
"Send letters to the ones holding the small gatherings, Rapheth and let them know about about my current mission. I shall be gone for a long time."
"Yes, father."
"Much depends upon your own will in this, son. I cannot make you do a single thing anymore. When you were younger I would give you a good beating for this sort of disobedience but I am too old to render such punishment and you are old enough to know better. You laze about too often and you disobey me and you are sneaky and deceptive. I see these qualities in you and it disturbs me. You must decide for yourself if you are guided by law or by principle. Must you have a literal rule hanging about your neck everywhere you go? Or can you live by principle, as I have tried to teach you? Perhaps I have failed."
"Do not say that father!" Rapheth cried.
"Aich! Remember what I have taught you, for one day you too, like Anet the prophetess, will not have the protective arms and bands of a city or a book of laws to tell you what to do. You must know it in your heart and only then will the true man in the heart become apparent." Said Ilim. He then left the room.
Rapheth did not know what to say. He had been found out. Again. Perhaps he was a failure and they put too much trust in him. Too many hopes. He dutifully set about writing the letters for Ilim. He heard Zigal in the back courtyard by the new, enlarged brick oven built for her, cooking dinner and talking with someone. A voice he did not recognize. These noises receded into the noise of the background as he concentrated on his task. He then decided to take a break from writing and read Ilim's writings. He read some of the words in a soft undertone and he felt a stirring within him as if they awakened a power long asleep. His hands trembled slightly and then he quickly put the papers down.
"Oh yes," called Ilim from an interior room, "you will be trained with a proper king's weapon soon. Zigal has informed me."
"When?" Called Rapheth excitedly. Now this was something he could handle. The memory of the stranger in the alley rushed back to him. He heard footsteps walk in from the courtyard in the back of the house. The footsteps were heavier than he knew Zigal's or Ilim's to be. Alert, he turned in his chair towards the sound. The words from the powerfully timbre'd voice immediately caught his attention.
"Now. Get up and face me, boy." It was the stranger, Rhadun. "Catch!" He said casually and Rapheth, too late, saw something go sailing by his head. It was one of his own daggers. Rapheth's face flushed and he grew hot with anger.
"Why did you do that? You could have killed me! That is not a toy, Rhadun!" He said indignantly. He'd missed the dagger and it went clattering to the floor behind him. The man shook his head slowly and regarded him coolly.
"You can't even throw a dagger properly." Said Rapheth. Yet he was excited that the stranger showed up again. It was something different for a change.
"I wasn't trying to kill you, boy. By the way, my real name is Rhajit. I thought you were supposed to be so quick and skilled in a fight? I see you missed that surprise by a league. I gave you warning enough by clomping across the floor like an auroch. Whether it is a street fight with assassins or in the heat of a great battle, you will not have time to react or behave imperiously. Calm your spirit. Your first lesson: "A man who drops his weapon or his attention is a dead man."
Chapter Four
It was one of those days where he worked in the cool confines of his master's alchemist's cave. It was the month of Pin, the last month of spring. But no matter. It was scorching in Egi by the time the first month of spring arrived. Demos was happy to work in the cave. He had cleaned all the bottles, vessels, pots and utensils. It was now time to begin with the careful and flawless recopying of Master Ulthi-Nahkteht's "minor" notes - he would never allow Demos to see his secret writings on his "important" experiments - and there would be receipts to write up and stamp when the customers came later in the week for their orders.
Ulthi-Nahkteht Ut belonged to a lesser guild in Yilphaeus within the Society of the Black Guild of Thaumaturgists and Alchemists of Egium. He knew dark things and the secrets of his fellow brothers of the black guild. Or pretended to.
The Black Guild was the most secretive, cruel and ruthless of the alchemist guilds. Demos had the misfortune of meeting other servants of his master's brothers at a special conjunction some years back and most of them were something out of an ancient horror tale. He still had nightmares about it. Human-animal hybrids and worse, many miserable, suffering failed hybrids at that. The successful ones, he learned, worked in the military, the slave pits or the brothels. He'd seen many things that turned his stomach inside out over the years, such as unwanted infants given to these black brothers for experiments or left to die and eaten by wild dogs or pigs in the street. He hated living in Egi. But most of the time he was put to work copying extensive notes after experiments, cleaning the laboratory and the upper house and washing clothes and other drudgery. How he'd managed to escape experimentation by his master he was not sure. Surely God's hand was in it? Or, most likely, his master was simply a failure and did not have the ability and knowledge to carry out such experiments on humans. But he did not dare to think on that. He was fortunate and that was that. In the past Master Ulthi often did experiment on animals and sometimes in the most hideous ways. They always died and Demos was left to throw these abominations out with the trash. There was a special hole these went into under the house to a swift running stream underground, which took them away to wherever they would go. The first time he encountered this kind of alchemy under his master he panicked and tried to run away, bolting through the door but he was caught and beaten mercilessly and threatened that the same would happen to him if he tried to run away again. He was marked on his ba
ck with a slave tattoo and most in the neighborhood knew him as a slave. In Egi runaway slaves were captured and forced back into labor for their masters and could be legally killed by their masters.
What Demos had learned under all his years under Master Ulthi was that Master Ulthi was a poorly skilled alchemist who had not done anything of mention or importance. He had abandoned what many in the guilds saw as the more important experimental and esoteric work and often spent his time scheming for ways to get rich. He was largely regarded as a cheap, grasping, avaricious "puffer" - alchemists that were solely interested in creating elixirs for profit and trying to create gold or silver from the baser metals to get rich without any eye for spiritual properties or respect for the spiritual work of the practice. Demos saw with his own eyes that these criticisms leveled at him were correct.
The serious alchemist often kept a secret box in his laboratory, said for directing the essence of thoughts into them and he viewed it as sacred, like his laboratory. Ulthi, on the other hand, kept his secret box in his own secret, inner laboratory but his brick tower oven, his altar and work table and the lock box he kept there were not so much sacred but were things he had stolen long ago from his more successful brethren. He somehow thought that stealing from other alchemists would confer their successes upon him. He had once stolen books from an old alchemist of the White Guild who had passed away - how he had gotten into the man's house Demos was not sure but he suspected it had much to do with hired thugs or spies - and procured the man's secret journal of his recipes and experiments and observations he had made. Once, Demos glimpsed it. It was labeled: Collected White Arcana. Too bad for Ulthi the book was written in Nalian. Demos could read fragmentary sentences and words in Nalian but he did not speak it, which drove Ulthi in a frustrated rage for which Demos received a beating. Another interesting thing about the book was that one day when Master Ulthi had decided to find someone who could secretly translate it before it was found out that he had violated an old, revered law among his brethren - Do not trespass upon your brother's sacred spaces nor his sacred secrets - the writings upon the book's pages simply vanished. Each page that was touched and turned over, the writing faded away. Demos was secretly overjoyed at this.
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