The Shining City (v5)

by Fiona Patton

  The older man snorted. “And I though he was a stiff-necked, bossy little know-it-all.” He dropped down beside the other man, shoving at him until he made room for them both. “Not much has changed, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Brax turned to stare back toward the hospice. “This is a bit different, Aban,” he replied.

  “Is it?” Yashar demanded.

  Kemal cocked his head to one side. “You’re not attracted to each other? Hisaro seemed to think you are?”

  Brax blinked. He still wasn’t used to the young God’s new name. To him He would always be just Hisar, a special and private diminutive.

  “Hisaro thinks everyone is attracted to everyone,” he answered.

  “Maybe so.” Kemal gave him a pointed look. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

  Brax made a neutral face. “Maybe,” he allowed. “But I’m attracted to a lot of people.”

  “And a lot of people are attracted to you,” Yashar noted. “Admitting an attraction to Graize doesn’t have to make the two of you exclusive, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you not want him?” Kemal pressed.

  Brax shrugged. “I don’t know. I feel like I might, but . . .”

  “But?”

  “Maybe, it’s too soon. Maybe he doesn’t want me.”

  “Again, Hisaro says he does.”

  “Hisaro is five years old. What does Hisaro know?” He grimaced. “How long did it take you two?”

  “To realize it, or to actualize it?” Yashar asked.

  Brax blinked.

  “To know it or to act on it?” his abayos amended with a sigh.

  “Oh. To act on it.”

  The older man leaned back, running his fingers through the sides of his beard. “Two weeks?” He glanced at his arkados.

  Kemal nodded. “Yeah. About two weeks.”

  “That’s not very long,” Brax pointed out and Kemal just shrugged.

  “Why wait?” He stood. “I’m sorry, but we should get back, Braxin-Delin,” he said. “I have to be at Assembly first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “They’re using proxy-beys for the negotiations now?” Brax asked with some surprise.

  “No. But the temples expect a show of strength, so the galleries are to be filled. Every day.” He sighed. “You’ll be expected by week’s end, too, you know, you and Graize both, and before I hear any complaints,” he added sternly as Brax opened his mouth to protest, “you should know that Spar’s been attending every Negotiation Assembly since they began.”

  Brax waved a dismissive hand at him. “So? He’s a First Priest. I’m just a humble Ghazi Ikin-Kaptin.”

  “You’re Estavia’s Champion,” Yashar replied, “and the Protector of Anavatan. You’ll be there.”

  “Yes, Aba.”

  “That’s better.”

  They each gave him their own version of a good-bye hug: Yashar’s hard enough to squeeze the breath out of him, and Kemal’s more gentle. Then, side by side, the two arkadon made their way down to the small wharf below Calmak-Koy.

  Brax stood, staring out across the herb garden for the longest time, breathing in the scents of lavender, calendula, and peppermint and debating their words with himself.

  “Why wait?” he muttered. “Why? I dunno? Fear, maybe?”

  Estavia’s presence thrummed against his chest, traveling down until it became an itch between his legs and he nodded in resignation.

  “All right,” he amended. “Not fear, anymore.”

  Taking a deep breath, he headed back to Graize’s sickbed.

  That night, after an equally awkward beginning, they finally came together with enough passion to satisfy even Hisaro.

  Now they stood, staring out across the strait, listening as the priests of Havo began the first note of the Evening’s Invocations.

  Graize’s lip drew up in a faint sneer. “I always hated doing this at Oristo-Cami,” he noted, more to himself than to the other man.

  Brax just shrugged. “I never did it at all until I came to Estavia-Sarayi.”

  “But you did it willingly.”

  “Yeah. An unwilling follower brings the Gods no strength,” he intoned.

  “Sure. Tell that to the Abayos-Priests of Oristo.”

  Both men shared a cynical snort worthy of Spar before returning their attention to the Evening Invocations, watching as first Havo, then Oristo, then Usara rose from the depths of Gol-Beyaz as gracefully as a flock of swans. All the Gods had been manifesting above the walls of their temples every morning and every evening since the invasion fleets had broken off their attacks; another show of strength to press home the point that Anavatan was not, and never would be, defeated. By anyone.

  As the God of Healing took His place beside His temple statue, Brax took a step forward. He felt Estavia’s presence build inside him even before the singing began and, adding his voice to his fellow priests, he tipped his head back as She filled him from head to foot with a sizzling power so strong it made him shake as if he were having a seizure. She rose from the waters directly in front him, stretching a hundred feet into the air and he threw his arms wide in a greeting no less intimate. He took one step forward, and then another, teetering precariously close to the edge of the promontory. The expression in Estavia’s crimson eyes grew feral and hotly possessive. They stood poised together, God and Champion, for the space of a single heartbeat, then She released him. As She turned and stepped onto Her temple battlements, Brax slumped, panting, to the ground.

  Graize eyed him with a cold expression. “I think She’s trying to make me jealous,” he groused.

  Brax grinned up at him. “Wait till it’s your turn. Hisaro’ll be up in a moment.”

  Across the strait, Ystazia joined Estavia above the city skyline, twirling Her multicolored skirts as fast as the God of Battles twirled Her silver swords. Then the priests of Incasa began their own solemn chanting.

  The God of Prophecy rose slowly above the waves of the silver lake without even a ripple to mark His passage, His snow-white hair swirled about His face, then settled across His shoulders as His gaze, both serene and satisfied, swept across Anavatan. He held this pose, as frozen as a statue made of glass, until the last note of His Invocation faded then, with a single, delicate step, He took His place on the top His temple wall.

  “Get ready,” Brax noted.

  “Shut up.”

  Stepping forward, Graize stared across the water at Spar, standing in the center of Hisar’s temple site. As the two of them began to sing the Evening Invocation almost in competition with each other, Brax felt the wind rise up to slap his hair into his face, then, between one heartbeat and the next, the young God of Creation and Destruction exploded from the depths of Gol-Beyaz in a vast spray of silvery water.

  Stretching up and up until He towered hundreds of feet above the surface, Hisaro then shot into the sky, throwing His arms wide enough to take in both Graize and Spar, before snapping back and forth from the male form to the female form, to both, to neither and back again. With a great swoop, He made for the Temple Precinct, buzzed the spire atop the Derneke-Mahalle Citadel, then headed back to spin around and around the older Gods until Oristo took an impatient swipe at Him, then landed on the top of Lazim-Hisar with a force hard enough to send a dozen lake gulls squawking and flapping indignantly into the sky.

  Beside him, Graize staggered forward. “Show-off,” he muttered as Brax threw a hand to catch him.

  “Always.” Brax cocked his head to one side with a slight frown. “Hisaro hasn’t taken the watchtower, has He?”

  Graize shook his head. “No, but you know how He . . . She . . . He is—I wish She’d stop doing that—” he growled. “You know how He hates for anyone to stand higher than . . . Her.”

  Together, the two men watched as the newest member of Anavatan’s pantheon flapped Her arms back at the gulls, then gave a laugh so loud, it ricocheted off the low-lying clouds. Then Brax, Ghazi-Priest of Estavia-Sarayi, and G
raize, First Abayos-Priest of Hisaro-Sarayi, turned, and side by side, made their own way down to the small wharf below Calmak-Koy, heading for their respective temples.

  Across the water, the storks of the Northern Trisect sat peacefully on their nests and on the shore before Hisaro-Sarayi, a white cat, hunted sand crabs in the surf.

  DAW Fantasy Novels by FIONA PATTON

  The Warriors of Estavia:

  THE SILVER LAKE (Book One)

  THE GOLDEN TOWER (Book Two)

  THE SHINING CITY (Book Three)

  The Novels of the Branion Realm:

  THE STONE PRINCE

  THE PAINTER KNIGHT

  THE GRANITE SHIELD

  THE GOLDEN SWORD