Sapient Salvation 4: The Claiming (Sapient Salvation Series)

by Jayne Faith

  The initiate closed the door as soon as I entered the room, leaving me alone with the Oracle.

  I went to her, took her hands, and squeezed them warmly. “Terrina, thank you for meeting me on such short notice.”

  The Oracle had little to do in the way of daily duties or obligations, but she spent most of her waking hours in meditation and prayer. She rarely left her home or invited anyone in.

  She smiled. “It’s my pleasure, Your Holiness.”

  I tsked good-naturedly. “No need for such titles when it’s just the two of us.”

  She made a vague waving gesture with one hand. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Have some tea, if you’d like.” She sat down in the spot where she’d been when I arrived.

  I went to the tea service that was set up on a lovely sideboard. Imitation cherry wood, if I had to guess. I poured one mug and took it to Terrina, lifting one of her hands to the mug handle and waiting until I was sure she had a grip on it before going back to pour my own.

  “You look very well,” I said, settling on an inviting overstuffed chair.

  She reached up with her free hand and pulled at the back of her blindfold. The strip of cloth came away in her hand, revealing the startling jet-black pools of her eyes.

  “I’m feeling well, for the most part,” she said. “Just the usual aches and pains that come with age.”

  Her voice sounded thinner than I remembered, and upon a closer look her face appeared more lined. I suddenly wondered if the stars had ever given her a vision of her own demise. I nearly shuddered, thankful I’d never have forewarning of how or when I would die.

  “What is the weight you carry?” she asked simply, either sensing my tension or knowing that I wouldn’t visit unless I had something important to discuss or perhaps both. I found it interesting that she phrased the question the way she did.

  A small sigh escaped my lips, and I realized I wasn’t sure exactly where to start. “My burden these days comes in the form of opposition.” I let out a short, rueful laugh. “You’d think it would be easier. Following the path of destiny, that is.”

  A faint smile touched her face. “Destiny isn’t simply a thing that happens to us. It’s a dynamic between us and the stars. We are given guidance, and then we take action. The stars respond to our actions by adjusting fate.”

  I nodded vigorously. “Yes! That’s exactly what I wish I could get across. We have a responsibility to take actions that show the stars we’re on the right path. We must continuously earn our destiny.”

  She was silent for a moment, and I sensed she was trying to work out the right words to express what she wanted to say next.

  “Laurel,” she said, using my given name that I hadn’t heard in decades. “You also must accept that each individual has a destiny. The individual destinies are like strands, threads, that weave together to form the destiny of all of us. Some of those strands are more influential, more fundamental in influencing the larger direction of our fate.” She breathed a soft laugh. “And here my metaphor is already breaking down. But do you understand?”

  She tilted her head slightly, as if listening very intently.

  “I think so. In fact, I would have said that very thing—individual destiny—was the root of my problems. Especially those very influential ones,” I said slowly. “But perhaps I’m not quite grasping . . .”

  “You do not trust that others are working toward the same goal you are,” she said. Even though it wasn’t a question, she paused and seemed to be waiting for my confirmation.

  “I suppose that’s correct. But it’s only because it’s true. There are important influencers who would say they are devoted to achieving the Return, but to me their actions state otherwise.”

  “It’s difficult, your position,” she said. She sipped her tea, her face unreadable.

  I waited for several breaths hoping for more.

  “Terrina, I can’t let Toric’s whims, or Novia’s opinions, or—or anyone else’s foolishness destroy our chance for Earthenfell,” I finally said, the tumbling from my lips in a burst of frustration.

  She turned her blank eyes on me, and a chill spiraled up my spine. “Do not mistake your position, High Priestess. You are the keeper of the faith, of the path back to the homeland. You are not the hand of destiny.”

  I blinked, for a moment wondering if she was on the verge of a vision. Her voice had taken on a strange tone. But she said nothing more and only sipped her tea again.

  “You’re not suggesting I’ve overstepped?” I asked, my brows drawing low. If she thought such a thing, it could only be because she didn’t know everything.

  “I couldn’t know the answer to that. Not yet. By the time the answer is clear to me, and if you have indeed overstepped, it may be too late.”

  Indignation flooded through me like a hot tide. She didn’t understand the trials I’d endured, the things I’d had to do, to keep us on the path to Earthenfell. She had no idea.

  But I refrained from saying so. I knew it would do no good. Terrina lived in seclusion, wrapped in a cocoon of meditative serenity, away from the hundreds of forces that pushed and pulled at our destiny—those threads she spoke of. Her life was simple and uncluttered, and she was free to sink into her eccentricities and isolation. She didn’t understand.

  I sipped my tea slowly until I was sure I could speak in a level voice. “Do you have any guidance for me, Oracle?”

  I knew she already would have said so if she had anything significant to reveal. I asked the question more as a show of respect, and as a way to wrap up our conversation, than out of any expectation for advice.

  “When you are faced with decisions, envision the many threads. Know that they twine together, influencing each other in ways none of us can foresee.”

  “I will,” I said. I wanted to close my eyes and shake my head. I could have—she wouldn’t have seen—but I wouldn’t take advantage of her sightlessness that way.

  I rose and went to the side board to deposit my empty mug. I turned to her. She’d placed her own mug on a side table and stood too.

  “Thank you for seeing me on short notice, Terrina. I hope I didn’t disrupt you too terribly.” My words sounded wooden in my ears, with none of the warmth I usually felt toward her.

  She held out her hands, and I grasped them briefly.

  “I welcome you here anytime, High Priestess Lunaria.”

  I left the cottage and walked quickly, as if I could somehow out-stride the disappointment I felt. I’d expected . . . what? Something more. Some confirmation or, at the very least, support from the Oracle.

  I’d had learned one thing from our visit, and the knowledge seemed to hollow me out: I was truly on my own now.

  6

  Maya

  AS I MADE my way back to the harem quarters after another night with Lord Toric, I mused over the glow I still felt from our time together. I was still a virgin, but as I was discovering, there were innumerable other ways to please each other.

  My glow dimmed when I thought of all I still needed to learn. Lord Toric had sworn to me that he would be with no other woman ever again, but I knew he wasn’t being entirely realistic. At some point, his needs would grip him, driving him to seek what I didn’t know how to provide.

  If giving myself to him fully would have solved the problem I would have done it gladly. But he needed more than just my body. He needed me to acquire certain skills.

  My first attempt to persuade Sytoria to teach me had yielded nothing. I’d intended to find Clarisse to see if I could discover something from her about Sytoria and then use it as leverage. But I’d been abruptly interrupted by the miracle commission’s summons.

  My stomach tightened into a hard little ball at the memory of my hours-long interview with the commission. The priestesses who’d lined a long narrow table had been polite enough. Their questions were repetitive, but they’d not tried to intimidate me or accuse me of anything.

  No, it wasn’t the priestesses of the mira
cle commission who made me anxious. It was the woman who’d escorted me to and from the interview. Novia.

  She was one of the many people who’d arrived shortly after I was discovered in the ash pit, after having “survived” my plunge from the Bridge of Purification into the fire. Most of the people who’d stood around me next to the ash pit were awestruck, but not Novia. She’d immediately suggested questioning me, and her doubt about the “miracle” was obvious from the very start.

  The woman’s blue eyes were as cold as arctic ice. I wanted to believe the High Priestess was in control and had Temple business well in hand, but something about Novia’s demeanor toward me still struck a deep chord of fear.

  I went to the room I shared with Kalindi and found her at her vanity. She sat with her blonde hair pulled over one shoulder, leaning forward to look in the mirror as she applied liner to one eyelid.

  She gave me a brief, scrutinizing look in the mirror and then went back to her makeup.

  “I suppose there’s not much point in getting all made up like this,” she said. Her tone sounded airy, but it was forced. “Rumor is Lord Toric has already asked for you from now until the end of eternity.”

  I paused in the middle of the room and faced her, even as a little ping of pleasure raced through me at the rumor she spoke of. “Kalindi, is it truly your desire to spend the night with him? A man you don’t even know?”

  She swiveled around on her seat and squinted at me. “I trained nearly my entire life to make it here, to serve the Lord of Calisto and Earthenfell. To represent Earthens as best I could through that service. I gave up everything for this.”

  I stiffened, taken aback by the force behind her words. Sometimes I forgot that most of the women in the harem had been sponsored by their clans. They’d given up the chance at a normal life to prepare for the Tournament and to go into service to the Lord. Some of them were probably relieved to evade Lord Toric’s attention or at least indifferent about it—like Clarisse. But Kalindi clearly felt she’d been robbed of the chance to fulfill her purpose.

  Unsure how to respond, I went to my dresser for clean underclothes and then into the adjoining room to bathe.

  When I emerged, Kalindi was gone. I dressed and then went to Clarisse’s room, and I was surprised by how relieved I was to see her. After the miracle commission interview and Kalindi’s less-than-friendly reception in our room, I was starting to feel buffeted from all sides.

  I linked my arm through Clarisse’s and pulled her close as we walked to the cafeteria. I knew that type of physical contact wasn’t really her style, but I needed to speak to her without anyone else overhearing. She gave me a glance, one brow quirked in question, but didn’t pull away.

  “Do you know anything personal about Sytoria?” I whispered. “I need something on her. Something she cares about.”

  Her lips quirked in a faint smile. “Making a game of your own, are you? I’m so proud.”

  I shrugged off her teasing, not in the mood for banter.

  Clarisse bit her lip for a moment, obviously thinking. “She loves being the queen bee of the harem. But you already knew that. Umm . . .” Her eyes narrowed, and she flicked a glance at me. Her lips parted as if she were on the verge of saying something.

  “What?” I urged.

  “She would value . . . information,” she said. Her words came slowly, carefully, as if she were concentrating very hard on them. “Information about the Return.”

  I felt the confusion and surprise register on my face as I stared at her. It was quickly drowned out by fear, as I sensed the implication. We were tiptoeing toward the line between curiosity and traitorousness, and if we went too near the latter . . . sudden awareness of the ever-present faint throb at the back of my neck, the reminder of my implant, made the tiny hairs on my arms lift as gooseflesh spread over me.

  “What . . . why would she want that?” I asked, my voice edged with the tiniest of trembles.

  Again, she hesitated. “Trust me, she would value it.”

  “Okay, but what? Precisely what would she want to know?” We were nearing the cafeteria, and other women were funneling through the doors ahead of us. In a moment it would become difficult to carry on a secret conversation.

  “Exactly what’s going to happen when we get back to Earthenfell,” Clarisse whispered.

  It was as if a gong had been struck inside my chest. I went silent as Clarisse and I entered the cafeteria, weighing what she’d said and feeling the reverberation of it inside me.

  I followed Clarisse, absently filling a plate with food, as a realization slowly crystalized in my mind: the odd thing wasn’t that Sytoria wondered about the same subject I did—what would happen to Earthens if the Calistans moved to Earthenfell—but that the information would carry so much weight to her. But according to Clarisse, information about the Return was the thing Sytoria prized the most, so that’s what I’d have to acquire. It wouldn’t hurt that I would like to have that information for myself, too.

  I eyed Clarisse as we moved through the room with our full plates and found a table.

  “Why does she care so much about the details of the Return?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “It’s not like she can do anything about it. Seems odd to me.”

  She gave her head a small shake. “Not here.”

  Her reaction only piqued my curiosity even more, but I complied, changing the topic to my upcoming exam on the rules of harem life.

  But it was like I had an itch at the back of my brain that I couldn’t scratch. Not with so many people around, at least. Things were tumbling together, but not quite settling out in a way I could make sense of. Before, Sytoria had said I was ignorant, and that I should ask Clarisse to tell me . . . what? I had no idea what she was hinting about. And now Clarisse was acting equally mysterious.

  I massaged one temple with my fingertips for a moment. There were too many threads I needed to follow. I needed to see my sister. I wanted to know more about Sytoria’s desire for information about the Return. And I needed to get Sytoria alone again to make another offer.

  I kept scanning the cafeteria, hoping to see her, but she didn’t show up. After breakfast, Clarisse and I parted ways and I went in search of Sytoria’s room. I had to ask for directions twice as I navigated through the extensive hallways of the harem quarters.

  When I finally found the right door, I raised the knocker, let it fall, and waited for someone to answer. Nearly a full minute passed, and I’d started to lose hope she was there, when the door finally opened. Sytoria stood there in a short silken robe, her damp hair piled high on her head in a bun that was somehow careless yet sexy at the same time.

  She exhaled an impatient breath through her nose when she saw me. “What is it?”

  I got straight to the point. “I can get you information about the Return.”

  I caught the surprise in her eyes before she composed her expression into one of skepticism. She glanced down the hallway in each direction and then lowered her chin and leaned forward slightly.

  “I’ve already tried asking him, and he gave me nothing,” she said, whispering. A conflicted expression pinched her lovely features. “Plus . . . we have to be careful not to . . .” She reached to the back of her neck with one hand, and it took me a moment to realize she was indicating her implant. The device that would shoot paralyzing pain if any of us Earthens said or acted in any way that would threaten a Calistan.

  I nodded. “I can do it, I swear.”

  “You’ll have to prove it,” she said. “Bring me something, and I’ll reward you. But it has to be something good. Significant.”

  I was nodding again, but she didn’t wait for my response. She stepped back into her room and closed her door.

  I made my way back to my room, my pulse thumping away with the prospect of this new challenge. I hoped Lord Toric would be willing to tell me more than he’d told Sytoria. A little squeak escaped my lips. Of course—I was the harbinger. I had a part to play in the Return. My curiosi
ty wouldn’t appear strange.

  I tried to settle down at my vanity to study the harem life manual, but one heel tapped a fast rhythm on the floor, making my knee jiggle up and down, and my mind kept wandering. Clarisse had been right—Sytoria wanted to know about the Return. But why? I’d have to probe that later, when I actually had something to offer her.

  What I really wanted to do was ditch my studies and find Clarisse. It was beginning to seem as though she knew a lot more than she was telling me. She was the closest thing to an ally I had in the harem. If anyone would finally break down and explain to me exactly what all the vague, mysterious statements were about, she was my best bet.

  I stood abruptly, shoving my vanity stool backward with my legs. I couldn’t focus any longer.

  I slipped from my room and turned right, heading toward Clarisse’s room. If she wasn’t there, I’d just keep searching until I found her.

  “Maya Calderon!” an irritated voice called out behind me, and my shoulders tensed. I knew that voice.

  With a frustrated growl building low in my throat, my feet scuffed to a stop. I squeezed my eyes closed and gave a withering sigh. Still trying to bite back my impatience, I opened my eyes and turned to find Hera striding toward me.

  “You’re due for a fitting of your new garments in four minutes.”

  “I’d like to reschedule this appointment,” I said, aiming for a confident, unarguable tone. What was the worst thing she could do to me? I was already stuck living in here. And it wasn’t as if she could overrule Lord Toric’s requests to send me to him.

  She narrowed her eyes and went very still for a moment. I kept my eyes locked on hers, hating that I had to tip my head back so far to look the tall Calistan woman in the face. But I stood my ground.

  She broke eye contact first, consulting her tablet. Her lips pressed together in a way that made it clear she wasn’t pleased. But then she pasted on a strained smile, and again I had the distinct impression she’d just remembered my status—not necessarily that Lord Toric favored me, but my status in the eyes of the public. I was a lowly Earthen, but I was also the harbinger of the Return.