by Zoe Marriott
There was a strange holiday sort of mood among some of the temple people and namoa, as if they could hardly believe they had arrived in a place like this – a place of warm clothes and plentiful food and sunlight. As if they had forgotten, in that terrible week, what such a place felt like, and they were only now remembering. They didn’t want to ask questions about the future. They were afraid of the answers.
There were conspicuous absences. The people who had left us on the journey and others who had arrived in Mesgao but somehow never made it into the fort. Still others, like Rashna, Kapila and – to my sorrow – Joachim the garden master, hung back, their eyes watchful and wary. They did not trust the Sedorne; they did not trust me. I did not know how to reach them. How could I convince them that everything was well now, that we were all safe, when I didn’t really believe it myself? We had found shelter for the moment, but I could hear the storm still raging outside. Eventually we would have to brave it again.
After the evening meal, I went wandering through the quiet halls of the fort. I didn’t really know what I was searching for. It certainly was not Sorin Mesgao. I had not looked for him all day, or wondered at his absence.
But even though I was not looking for him so determinedly, I failed to come across him anywhere. After being asked by the second polite servant whether I was lost, I began to feel aggrieved.
“It’s ridiculous,” I muttered to myself. “How are we going to discuss my people’s future if he’s never anywhere to be found?”
I was distracted from my irritation by the echo of a voice calling out. The sound was just beyond the range of my hearing, and teasingly familiar. I could not make out the words. Was it my name? Was someone calling me? Insensibly I found my feet speeding. Who was calling?
When I rounded the corner, there was no one there. Everything was quiet again. There was an open doorway opposite, and the warm glow of firelight spilled through it into the corridor. I hesitated for a moment, then went forward.
The room was large, with two rows of wooden benches, and tapers flickering at regular intervals along the walls. At the head of the room there was a stone pit, very like the one at the centre of the holy shrine – except that the banked embers glowing happily at its heart were red and gold, natural in origin.
For a moment, I almost thought I had stumbled into some kind of shrine to the Mother. It couldn’t be. It was all wrong. Apart from the House of God – built hundreds of years ago – the holy places of the Order were usually little stone huts or cairns out in the open, with scraps of colourful material and God charms tied to the outside by those who visited them. No temple built by the Order would ever have housed the thing that sat on a recessed shelf above the fire pit.
It was a statue of a woman, carved from golden marble and inlaid with amber and garnet. She was seated cross-legged, arms raised to the sky, with her beautiful face lifted. Hair curled around her face like flames. She looked so much like my vision of the Holy Mother that I was riveted, moving closer almost against my will. The Order would never make an image of God like that. I was in a heathen – no, not heathen, just Sedorne – temple.
I looked around. There was no sense of wrongness, no feeling that I was in a forbidden place. I hadn’t much idea of the way that Sedorne religion worked – I couldn’t remember Mama being very religious – but it seemed to me that if the Sedorne were worshipping the element of fire here, then in a way they were also worshipping the Holy Mother.
I walked to the front of the room and sat down on one of the wooden benches. It was padded with soft embroidered cushions and very comfortable – definitely not like a Rua temple. I leaned back with a sigh, and watched the glow of the embers.
I must have fallen into a light trance, or perhaps merely dozed off. Whichever, it was some time later when a shadow moved to my left. I started, and looked up to see Sorin in the process of sitting down next to me.
“I’ve been trying to find you,” he said quietly. “What are you doing?”
“I was just watching the embers. I’m sorry – shouldn’t I be here?” I kept my voice low too. He returned my gaze evenly and I realized, with some relief, that he wasn’t nursing a grudge.
“I can’t see any harm in it,” he said. “But you do know you are watching the embers of Ioana, goddess of fire, don’t you?”
“They’re still flames. That means they belong to the Holy Mother.”
He smiled. “Typical Rua stubbornness.”
Sedorne stubbornness, Dada would have said…
There was a moment of silence. Then I spoke, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“How does this, er, this religion work?”
He whistled softly. “That is a question. You know of the four elements?”
“Earth, air, fire and water?”
He nodded. “We believe everything that exists is formed of a combination of those four elements. The world itself was created when they came together. Each of the elements is embodied by one of our gods – Ioana, goddess of fire; Tiberiv, god of air; Ovidiv; god of water; and Iosee, goddess of earth. They are present in all things and all people, and exist all around us.”
“Are there temples for the other elements in the fort?”
“No. Each person is born to serve one of the elements – just as every animal and plant owes allegiance to one of them. When a baby is born, our priests consult their holy scrolls, examine the baby and decide to which element the child belongs. I was a child of the flames. I offer respect to all the gods, but I worship Ioana and she watches over me.”
“A child of the flames?” Daughter of the flames, Surya had called me…
“That’s right.”
I looked away from him, into the fire pit. God had sent us to this man of all men – this man who truly owed his worship to Her. Perhaps She had even guided me to the temple at this, the right moment. Or perhaps She had lifted Her hand from me in the sacred shrine, and my decisions and actions were my own. What then?
I made a series of rapid judgements. Every instinct I owned told me that Sorin was a good man. I had seen for myself that he had both honour and kindness, and I was sure that he was at odds with Abheron. Despite all that, he was still Sedorne. It was one thing for him to deplore Abheron’s viciousness and shelter the raggedy, harmless victims – quite another to harbour the missing heir to the Ruan throne, who could topple his king from power. If I told him who I was, he would have to make a choice between his own honour and loyalty to his people.
I couldn’t believe that he would betray us.
I turned back to him, hesitated. “Sorin, you and I … we barely know each other.”
He looked at me calmly, apparently unphased by the change of subject.
“You said that before, Zahira, but you’re only talking about time, not knowledge. Some people spend years with each other without ever really knowing one another. Our acquaintance has been very short, but in that short time you have been a friend to me. I may not know everything about you, but I know enough. You have to decide if you know enough about me to trust me with whatever is going through your head.”
My mouth was dry. I stared at the glowing embers of the fire pit as if they would prompt me to speak, and began.
“I’ve lied to you, Sorin. From the very first time we met. I told you that my name was Zahira, because I wanted to keep you at a distance. And when you made me promise to come to you for help, I lied then too, for I had no intention of taking you at your word. But the Mother has an odd sense of humour. Though I believed I lied, She made what I said into truth. All the things I believed were truth were lies instead. The name I believed was mine, wasn’t. The life I thought was mine, wasn’t. I was someone else.” I shook my head at the tangle of words I’d made. “Do you understand?”
“Not really,” he said, and I could hear the frown in his voice.
“My mother and father and my sister and brothers were killed in the fire at the rei’s palace. My nanny carried m
e from the building and through the hills to the House of God – sacrificing her own life to save mine – and gave me to Noirin Surya. I think Surya put me into the sacred flames. I know that the Mother took all my memories of my life before the fire, so that I might not betray myself. From then on – for ten years – I was brought up as the noirin’s daughter. She called me her little agni, her daughter of the flames. She kept my real identity secret – even from me – in order to keep me safe.”
“Safe from what?”
I lifted my eyes away from the fire pit to look at him. “Safe from the ones who killed my family. Safe from Abheron. Sorin, I am the lost reia. I am Zahira Elfenesh.”
He went very still. I licked my dry lips and waited. Suddenly he grinned. It was an ironic expression – and he shook his head as if he had been slapped – but it was a smile nonetheless.
“Well, I wasn’t prepared for that.” There was a moment of silence. Then: “So that’s why Gita deigned to leave the kitchen and bring your tray herself. And your people – they really are your people. I see now. Thank you for telling me.”
As suddenly as it had appeared, the smile was gone. He looked at me gravely. “Now there’s something I have to tell you.”
“If it’s that you’re about to call the gourdin in and have me arrested, I’d really rather not hear it,” I said quickly.
“No, it’s not that – though it’s good to see how deeply you trust me. Zahira, when you first told me that the House of God had been attacked, I knew Abheron had to be behind it; and I could think of only one reason why he should, after a decade of ignoring them, suddenly declare war on the namoa. There must have been a spy in Mesgao that day, when you intervened on my behalf. The report of a namoa helping me must have goaded Abheron into action. He’s obviously decided the Order is a threat he has to eliminate.”
I gaped at him, shattered. “Then … I’m responsible?”
“No,” he said sharply. “You might as well say that I’m responsible for being attacked in the first place. The one responsible is our king. Our king…”
He took a deep breath. “I have to tell you, Zahira. Your mother was Emelia Luminov. And Emelia Luminov’s brother was Abheron Luminov. The king.”
I felt as if he had poured a bucket of cold water over my head.
“Then he – he’s my uncle,” I said as the coldness crept down over my whole body. “He killed his own sister? His own niece and nephews?”
Uncle Abheron?
“Yes.”
“You accepted such a man as your king?” My voice was high-pitched, dangerously close to hysteria.
Sorin grabbed my shoulder and held me still when I would have leaped up.
“No, I didn’t accept him as my king, Zahira. That’s why he’s trying to kill me.”
I breathed deeply, trying to calm down. I didn’t know what reaction I’d expected from him, but it wasn’t this round of new revelations.
“Then it was his – my uncle’s – men that day in the bazaar?”
The king is my uncle. Abheron is my uncle. The king…
“Yes. Zahira, I’m sorry – I know this is a horrible shock. But please, listen to me. If Abheron ever found out about you, he would stop at nothing to kill you. You are incredibly dangerous to him: you have a true blood claim to the throne of Ruan. The Rua would rally to your cause. The problem is that the Rua alone could never defeat him. Now, Abheron wants me dead, because two generations ago my grandfather was the Sedorne king. He was killed when the Luminov family seized power, and they’ve been trying to get rid of us all ever since, because we have a true blood claim to the crown of Sedra. Some of the Sedorne would answer my call to rise against Abheron, but not enough to succeed. Do you understand what this means?”
I was only half listening to him, searching Zahira’s mind for any trace – some memory, some image – of King Abheron. Surely there had to be something. He was my uncle, Zahira’s own blood relative. He killed my family. Mama and Dada and everyone. He killed them all.
I blinked, tried to focus on him. “I don’t; I’m sorry.”
“It means that if you and I were to unite our claims, we would have a stronger blood right to the throne of Ruan and of Sedra, than Abheron. If Rua and Sedorne were to join together against him, there would be a real chance – probably the only chance – of deposing him.”
“Sorin…” I said slowly, my attention suddenly snapping back to him. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m asking you to marry me, Zahira.”
I stared, unable even to speak. Then I reached up and began trying to prise his fingers from my shoulder.
“Let go of me,” I said loudly.
“Zahira—”
“No, I’m not listening any more. You’re insane.”
“You’ve said that before, and you were proved wrong.”
“That was lunch, not marriage!” I almost shrieked. I couldn’t believe the pain that was clawing inside me. He only wanted me for his ambition’s sake. For power. I had thought there was something … something real. It was all lies, calculated and black.
“Do you honestly expect us to shackle ourselves to another Sedorne tyrant? Do I look that stupid? Why in the name of God would I allow you to use me like that?”
“I don’t want to use you, Zahira! Stop and think for a moment. Think about what I’ve said.”
“I have thought! Maybe you’re right, that together we could get rid of Abheron – though that’s a highly questionable assumption – but to what end? It would be a big sacrifice on my part, and much as I hate that murdering Pig, I don’t really want to give up my life to get revenge on him, especially if it would only result in another Sedorne ruler on the throne.”
“I don’t want another Sedorne ruler on the throne. I want a reia there. You.”
“Oh, how charitable—”
He let out a laugh of sheer exasperation. “Would you let me speak for five seconds, or must we sit like this all night?”
I hissed between my teeth, “Fine, speak.”
“Thank you.” He cautiously released me. “Zahira, you came here when you had nowhere to go, and gave your people’s lives into my hands. You’ve trusted me with your real name. So I hope you feel for me some part of what I feel for you.”
“And what is that?” I wanted to bite my tongue as the question slipped out.
“Admiration. Respect. Trust.”
“Oh.” I looked down at my hands. Don’t be pathetic. Concentrate on what’s important.
“If you do feel those things for me,” he continued, “then you should be able to listen to me with an open mind. Forget ‘Rua’ and ‘Sedorne’; it shouldn’t be that hard – you’re half Sedorne yourself. Look at it this way. It would be bringing together two peoples in a common cause, with the best interests of both at heart, in order to remove a bad king from power.”
“What would happen then?” I said, my voice hard. “Even if we managed to unite Rua and Sedorne, and our two forces didn’t kill each other, and didn’t get butchered by Abheron’s army, and somehow we managed to get rid of him … what then? I can’t be reia if you’re king.”
“Why not?”
“Because the first thing any reia did would be to rid Ruan of the Sedorne. You took this land by force, and you occupy it by force. Even you, Sorin, rule lands which do not belong to you – lands stolen from their rightful casador. You don’t belong here.”
“You’re missing a crucial point, Zahira.”
“Really? Do tell,” I said with weary sarcasm.
“You can’t get rid of us. We’ve been here for a decade and we’ve sunk our roots too deep. The only way to get every Sedorne out of Ruan would be to rip the land apart with bloody civil war. We’d all end up killing each other – and for what? This nation is big enough for us all to share.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
I leaned forward, my voice trembling with intensity. “My people deserve freedom from ser
vitude. From fear. They deserve their homes and their lives as they were before the invasion. They deserve happiness.”
He spoke seriously. “There’s no reason they can’t have that, if we work together.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “And your allies would be willing to change? To give up their lands and their riches to the Rua they’ve been grinding under their feet for ten years?”
“What about the Rua casadors who’ve allied themselves with Abheron?”
“What about them?” I almost wailed.
“What would you do to them if you became reia?”
“I’d strip them of lands and titles and execute or exile them,” I said flatly.
“Then give their lands to the Sedorne who earn them by working with us against Abheron. Let the lands held by the Sedorne who stand with Abheron against us go back to their original Rua owners once they’ve been exiled,” he said with seemingly boundless confidence. “That’s if those Rua owners are still in the country. Many fled and left their people to their fate. I know several men – good men – who are lord over lands that have no rightful casador. Unless you’d let those cowards return and take up their titles again?”
“I wouldn’t, no. But—”
“What I propose is a union of equals, Zahira. You and I would rule together, share power equally. We would repeal Abheron’s laws, stop the persecution of the Rua and begin anew. No more force or intimidation. A second chance for Ruan. For Sedorne and Rua to live as one people.”
I put my head down in my hands, cradling my forehead as if I thought I could quieten its mad buzzing with the touch of my fingers. He makes it sound so real, so right. He makes it sound easy, but it isn’t. I can’t believe I’m considering this. But … I am…
If what he was proposing actually worked, the dreams we had all cherished all our lives would come true. There would be a reia on the throne again, and peace, safety. Surya would have been right. But how could I possibly marry him?
“What about you and me?” I found myself asking, my voice barely above a whisper.
