The High Priest and the Idol

by Jane Fletcher

  “Yes. Once the Coven is gone, if the people come to me and say they want things to go back to how they were, I’ll destroy the emanator.”

  “It’ll be too late then to rebuild the Coven.”

  “If people want the Coven back, I’m sure we’ll be able to sort it out. I promise. I’ll abide by the wishes of the people.”

  Tevi could tell that Ciamon was not seriously considering the possibility of people preferring the Coven to his paradise on earth. Talking to him was pointless. However, Jemeryl still kept going. “How about now? If the master merchants of Villenes won’t agree to embrace your new order, will you abide by their decision?”

  “They don’t have the right to decide on behalf of the whole town.”

  “And you do?”

  Ciamon shook his head sorrowfully. “Jem, I don’t understand why you can’t see that I only want what’s best for the world.”

  “I understand that. It’s your judgement, not your motives I…” Jemeryl sighed and took a step back. “I’m wasting my breath, aren’t I? Excuse me, I’m going to wash before dinner.”

  Jemeryl strode away towards the tents. Ciamon dithered for a few steps, as if considering going after her, but then turned to Tevi. “Would she listen to you? Can’t you try to talk her round?”

  “I’m sure she’d listen to me, but as it happens, I agree with her.”

  “Why? You’re ungifted. Don’t you see what you have to gain?”

  “I’ve got a better idea than most. I know what society is like without magic. I come from islands out in the Western Ocean. We’re surrounded by hundreds of miles of water, and the rocks are full of iron. It means we don’t get sorcerers or witches on the islands. We’re in the state you want to impose on the rest of the world.”

  “Why did you leave?”

  “I’d have been executed if I’d stayed.”

  “What had you done?”

  “It was more a case of what I am.”

  Ciamon frowned. “What are you?”

  “I’m a woman who prefers other women as lovers.”

  “And?”

  “That’s it.”

  “What?” Ciamon looked bewildered.

  “For you, the big difference is between sorcerers and the ungifted. On the islands, the big difference was between women and men. You were only supposed to take lovers from the other sex to your own—the opposite sex, as we referred to it. Having a same-sex lover was a crime you could be executed for. I was merely exiled.”

  “Who told you to do this?”

  “The queen was the one who exiled me.”

  “No. Your people. Who told them same-sex lovers were a crime?”

  “Nobody. Ordinary people can think up things for themselves, you know. They don’t need sorcerers to do everything for them.”

  Ciamon ignored the jibe. “It must have come from somewhere.”

  “They picked it up centuries ago, before they fled the mainland.”

  “Fled?”

  “Didn’t like sorcerers, I think. But believe me, they’d have been better off staying.”

  “At least they were free.”

  “No. Everyone was constrained by what sex they were. I wasn’t free to pick a lover, and the men weren’t free to do just about anything.”

  “But everyone was equal.”

  “Men were treated as inferior to women.”

  “That’s nonsense.”

  Tevi laughed. “Of course, but that’s the way it was. When it comes to equality, magic actually provides a weird equaliser. You can’t tell which baby is going to be a sorcerer. It cuts down on the assumptions people make. You daren’t dismiss a baby boy as inferior, because he just might grow up to be someone who can turn you to ash with a wave of his hand. Nobody gets their life planned out for them on the day they’re born.”

  “What can you possibly plan for a baby?”

  “On my islands it was easy. The women were going to be warriors, and spend their time looting and killing people on other islands. The men were going to be possessions. It’s because of a magic potion we have that makes women strong. Before we got it, men were the warriors and the women were possessions. And this is what the whole world will be like, because of you.”

  “No. It won’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  Ciamon cast around irritably. “Because your people were culturally unbalanced by the sorcerers they’d fled from. Without the background of oppression, they’d never have developed their odd ideas.”

  “That’s a big guess, and even if it’s true, won’t the society people develop now be just as unbalanced by the background of the Protectorate?”

  “No. Because I won’t let it.” Ciamon turned and stalked away.

  Tevi watched him go. Despite having spent time in Ciamon’s company, Tevi still could not imagine what Jemeryl had ever seen in him. Had they been very young at the time? Had it been a phase Jemeryl went through? Tevi frowned. Was she being unfair? Perhaps her judgement was tainted by jealousy. Or maybe the man really was an idiot.

  *

  Tevi opened her eyes. A noise had woken her, a noise she knew very well—the metallic rasp of a sword being drawn. She lay still, concentrating on her ears, trying to locate the source. Nothing in her immediate surroundings was moving. The only breathing in the tent, apart from her own, came from Jemeryl, sleeping beside her. Then she heard footsteps and soft voices, the sounds of people creeping through the campsite.

  Tevi slipped silently from her bedding and pulled back the tent flap a fraction. The moon was half full and low in the sky, but its light was sufficient to see eight or more figures moving between the tents, swords in hand. The loose robes were the same as those worn by the nomads, but the scarves around their faces spoke of bandits.

  Gangs of thieves were uncommon in the desert. Travellers to prey upon were hard to find, and usually travelled in large, well-defended caravans. The terrain was inhospitable, giving the bandits limited options to rest up between raids. More than this, the nomads took a dim view of theft, and were very capable of defending their home ground. Still, the risk of attack was real enough that guards should have been set around the camp. Why had the alarm not been raised?

  Her movement had woken Jemeryl, who now started to stir. Tevi slid her hand over Jemeryl’s mouth. It was too dark to see in the tent, but fortunately, Jemeryl did not struggle. Either from familiarity with the touch, or the empty space beside her, she must have worked out whose hand it was. She joined Tevi at the tent flap.

  All Tevi’s weapons were locked in a strongbox on one of the wagons. Ciamon had promised to return them to her in Villenes—which was no use now—and nothing in the tent offered much in the way of a weapon. Only the sentinels had swords, and the three soldiers were nowhere in sight. The servants had cooking utensils. Tevi would have settled for a cook’s knife and frying pan club, but the raiders were closing in on Ciamon’s tent, leaving no time to hunt around. She had to act quickly.

  Tevi grabbed a short woollen riding cape and burst through the tent flap, hoping that enough noise would bring the sentinels to her side. “Wake up. Thieves! To arms!”

  Yelps and groans came from the surrounding tents. At least some of the party had woken. The raiders also jerked around at the sound of Tevi’s voice. A few of them froze, caught for a moment in indecision, but the one nearest Ciamon’s tent, clearly the gang leader, pointed at Tevi. “Jaz, Kali, deal with her. We’ll take care of the false priest.”

  Tevi took a firm grip on the cape and whirled it around in a spiral, turning the material into a heavy twisted cosh. It was not much of a weapon, but it was the best she had. Two raiders separated away from their comrades and closed in on her. Their careless, relaxed posture denoted overconfidence. Would this be their fatal mistake? Tevi kept her hand moving in small circles to stop the cloak unwinding. Where were the sentinels?

  Both opponents rushed her simultaneously. Tevi dropped beneath their swords and dived to the side, tucking into a r
oll. As she regained her feet she swung the cape up with all her strength in a diagonal slice, catching one raider across his cheek. The man’s head was snapped aside with a distinct crack. Had she broken his neck? Tevi pounded her foot into his stomach as he fell for added reassurance.

  White fire erupted in Tevi’s side. Where had that come from? For an instant Tevi was stunned with surprise, before realising the other raider had stabbed her, but it was only a glancing blow. Tevi twirled around. Her elbow made sharp contact with the woman’s nose. The raider fell back, screaming. A spray of warm blood splattered Tevi’s face.

  Tevi counter-spun the cape to loosen it and then flapped it over the woman’s right arm, snaring her sword in its thick folds. Still dazed, the raider tried to pull away, her attention for the moment diverted. Tevi moved in, chopping the edge of her hand hard into her opponent’s throat. The raider dropped vertically, making gurgling sounds like someone being strangled. Tevi stamped on the woman’s wrist to loosen her grip and claimed the sword for herself.

  Both opponents were now on the ground, but still breathing, still moving. Although she hated to do it, Tevi sliced at the backs of their knees, hamstringing them—the coward’s blow. Outnumbered as she was, Tevi dared not let them regain their feet and attack her again. The sentinels had still not arrived. However, Jemeryl had scrambled from their tent and picked up the other raider’s dropped sword.

  Tevi shook her head urgently. “Stay back.”

  Jemeryl frowned, but then slipped into the shadows behind the tent. Tevi was relieved—they did not have the time to argue. The remaining raiders were now encircling Ciamon’s tent. None of them were looking around. Undoubtedly, they assumed the groans and screams had been Tevi’s, not their comrades’.

  The flap of Ciamon’s tent opened and his face appeared, bleary eyed and still partially asleep. “What’s going on? Who’s making…” Ciamon’s voice died at the sight of the armed raiders. His eyes widened in fear, glinting white in the moonlight.

  “If you know any prayers to your mock god you better start saying them. Or would you like to hear about a true faith before you die?” The jeering voice belonged to the leader who had spoken before.

  “What do you want?” Ciamon’s voice broke, the high pitch betrayed his terror.

  “We want to kill you, of course.”

  “Why? What have I done to you?”

  “You’ve violated our temple. You’ve stopped us worshipping our gods and stolen from their shrines. You’ve tried to take over things you had no right to touch. You have scorned that which is sacred.”

  “I haven’t—”

  “You most certainly have. And your heart is going to be a special offering on Toqwani’s altar. I’m going to cut it out and put it there myself.”

  “But…”

  “But. But. But?” The raider taunted. She was clearly enjoying herself, secure in the knowledge that she was in control and had no need to rush or worry. She should have looked behind her.

  Tevi charged forward. She cannoned into the nearest raider, sending him crashing onto two of his comrades and bowling them all over like skittles. Whatever qualities the leader had been chosen for, quick reflexes was not one of them. She was absorbed in goading Ciamon, unwilling to break off. By the time she started to turn it was too late—for her. Tevi drove the sword into the woman’s stomach, impaling her. Tevi’s free arm wrapped around her in a deadly parody of a hug, holding her steady while levering the sword upward, slicing through muscle and bone.

  Tevi released her hold on the gang leader, who fell to the ground, lifeless, and turned to face the others. Those she had knocked down were scrambling up again. Six raiders in total, and now they were fully aware of the threat she posed. The odds were not good. After a second of hesitation, two led the attack with the others close behind.

  Suddenly, Jemeryl stepped from the shadows, also holding out a sword. She called over her shoulder. “Come on. We’ve got them.”

  Tevi took advantage of the momentary confusion to lash out at the nearest raider. The injury she inflicted was at most a flesh wound, but it was enough. The raider was hurt and did not want to see who else might be on the way. He turned and ran, and with that, the rest gave up the fight. Some halted briefly by the pair who Tevi had hamstrung, but neither could stand. Neither would ever walk unaided again. The unwounded raiders were evidently not willing to carry their comrades, so they abandoned them and fled the campsite. The sound of hoofbeats faded into the night. With the leader dead and two of their number prisoner, Tevi was sure the raiders would not be back.

  The servants had been hiding in their tents, waiting until it was safe to come out. Now they emerged. Most dithered in a confused mass, whispering among themselves, but a few were more focused. One knelt to light torches from the remains of the campfire and two approached Tevi.

  “Is the High Priest all right? Has he been hurt?”

  “No, he’s, um…”

  Tevi was aware of sobbing from behind her. It had been going on since she tackled the gang leader. She turned round

  Ciamon was on his knees, crying hysterically. He had his arms wrapped around himself. Even by the dim moonlight, Tevi could see that he was racked by convulsive shudders. The raider’s threats had clearly unhinged him. Jemeryl was already at his side with her arm across his shoulders. Tevi went to join them.

  “No. Keep away from me,” Ciamon screeched.

  To her surprise, Tevi realised she was the target for his comments.

  Jemeryl murmured reassurance. “It’s all right. It’s Tevi. She’s just saved you.”

  “She’s got blood on her. I can see it. She killed them.”

  “They were going to kill you.” It was the wrong thing to say.

  “She’s got…she’s got a s-s-sword. Keep her away. Keep…” Ciamon was out of his mind with terror.

  More servants came to assist the panic-stricken High Priest. Tevi left him to their care. He was not her problem. The remaining servants were still flapping around, asking inane questions. To Tevi’s mind, the only valid ones were, who were the raiders? And what had happened to the sentinels?

  The leader was dead at her feet, but the other two might provide some answers. Tevi started to walk to where they lay but stopped after the first step, hissing between her teeth. Pain flared up her side. She was indeed covered in blood, and not all of it had come from her opponents. The wound in her side was deeper than she had thought, and now the excitement was over, it was making itself felt. But it was not critical. Tending to it could wait a while. Tevi grabbed a torch from a servant and hobbled across the campsite.

  The fallen raiders were both silent and unmoving. Not as much as a moan or a twitch came from either. Even before she reached their side, Tevi was sure they were dead. But why? She had deliberately hamstrung them, cutting the tendons in the backs of their legs. Neither would ever walk without crutches, but it should not have been fatal. Ignoring the pain in her side, Tevi knelt and rolled one onto his back. The man’s throat had been slit. Their comrades had stopped by them briefly, before fleeing the oasis. Evidently the raiders did not want any of their number captured alive.

  “Ma’am, I thought you might want to know. I’ve found two of the sentinels.”

  Tevi looked up. The speaker was the servant who had lit torches while the others flapped around aimlessly.

  “Just two?”

  “Yes. They’re dead.” He nodded at the corpse on the ground. “Like that. No sign of the third one. I guess there’s not much point looking for her.”

  “Thanks. And I think you’re right.” Tevi tried to stand, but the world swam around her head and she sank back down, gasping.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Just blood loss. I’ve got a cut. Not serious. Could you help me to the tent and then tell Jem?”

  The servant did as requested and left. Tevi lay on her back, concentrating on breathing evenly. Within seconds the tent flap opened and Jemeryl ducked through. She dropped to her
knees.

  “Tevi. Are you all right?”

  “I’ve got a slice on my side. It’s not deep but—”

  Already, Jemeryl was gently pulling Tevi shirt up and examining the wound. “Oh, darling, it’s nasty.”

  “It’s not hit anything vital. Could you press on it? Try to stop the bleeding.”

  “I worked in the hospital at Ekranos, remember?” Jemeryl groaned. “But then I could use all seven dimensions. This would be so easy to fix in the fifth. I feel helpless.”

  Tevi reached her arm over and squeezed Jemeryl’s hand. “I think, maybe, I have the slightest inkling about how you feel. In the fight just now, my prescience wasn’t there. It felt like I was fighting with a blindfold on.”

  Long ago, Jemeryl had explained how many apparently ungifted people had weak traces of a paranormal sense. Tevi’s prescience was the faintest foreshadowing, working no more than a second into the future and providing information only about life-threatening events, but there could hardly be a more useful gift for a warrior to have.

  “You did well without it.”

  “But with it, I’m sure I wouldn’t have been stabbed. It would have warned me.” Tevi grimaced, from frustration rather than pain. “And being injured means we have to forget any idea of kidnapping Ciamon. We don’t have the sentinels to deal with, but I’m not up to racing across the desert with a prisoner in tow.”

  “We may get another chance. For now, we’re all heading back to Kradja.”

  “Ciamon’s decision?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he any calmer?”

  “Still blubbering. I can’t believe how he’s gone to pieces.”

  “A gang of masked assassins trying to kill you can have that effect on some people.”

  “You dealt with them. Have I told you how pleased I am that you’re my partner now, not him? I think Alendy was hoping if I met Ci again I’d want to swap back.” Jemeryl gave a half laugh. “No damned chance at all.”

  “Good.”

  Jemeryl peeled back her hand and examined the cut, adjusting the position of the torch for better lighting. “The bleeding has eased, but it could do with a couple of stitches.”