“Thank you,” Alaric said. “I’m afraid most of us don’t speak any Meiric.”
Sienne went to the other doors and knocked. “Some of us aren’t usually early risers, either. What’s that delicious smell?”
“Flat breads, and soft cheese. Fruit. And tea.” Manisha sat on one of the cushions and poured out a thin dark stream of liquid into a small cup with no handle.
“I’ve heard of it. Some of the nobles in the capital drink it. It’s not as popular as coffee.” Sienne accepted the cup and inhaled deeply. “It smells good.”
Manisha poured another cup and handed it to Alaric just as Kalanath emerged, his red hair disordered from sleep. She smiled broadly. “Sit, my son. Eat. You do not rise so early as you did before.”
“I usually wait for Sienne to make breakfast,” Kalanath said. “It is a habit.”
“Sienne is you, yes?” Manisha said to Sienne. “I will learn names. Sienne, and Alaric.”
“Dianthe and Perrin,” Kalanath added.
Perrin came to the door, his eyes squinted nearly shut. “That is a lovely smell, though it is not blessed coffee,” he said. “I believe I will try it.”
“It will do you good to develop a new vice,” Alaric said with a grin.
Sienne spread soft cheese over a round of bread and took a bite. It was tangy and smooth and delicious. “Dianthe, have some of this,” she said, preparing another round and handing it to her friend. Dianthe folded it in half around the cheese and took a large bite, nodding her thanks.
They ate in companionable silence for a while. Sienne was just trying to decide what of all her questions she wanted to ask first when Alaric said, “Chakhran is the Hierarch?”
Manisha nodded. “He wants to speak with you today. All of you. I do not know what he sees in vision.”
“He will not keep me here,” Kalanath said.
Manisha’s eyes widened. “No. Not ever. You may leave—but you will not leave, yes?”
Kalanath put his hand over hers. “No. I mean, yes, I must leave, but—”
“No. You were gone so long, I do not know if you live, Kalanath. You cannot go.”
Kalanath looked uncomfortable. “We came to Omeira seeking knowledge,” Alaric said. “Kalanath is part of that quest.”
“We will talk about it later,” Kalanath said. “I will not go forever, if I go.”
Sienne almost protested that “if,” but managed to say nothing. Manisha looked to be on the verge of tears. “So much has changed, my son. The ones who hurt you, they are gone. You not have afraid—not fear. They respect you.”
“I believe you,” Kalanath said. “It is not they that will keep me gone.”
“And I…” Manisha’s voice trailed off. “I do not stay the same. I am free to…” She withdrew her hand from his and clasped her hands in her lap. “Chakhran helped me. It was a thing I wished, that the divines say is not to be. The old divines. They thought you were…” She scowled, and switched to Meiric. “The old divines believed you were born of God’s will. That not knowing who fathered you was what made you a devesh. I have never believed this.”
Kalanath went still. “What are you saying?”
“You saw him last night. The man who stood with me. Vaishant Dakhshavaan.” Manisha drew in a deep breath. “He is your father.”
8
Kalanath’s eyes went wide. “My…” He swallowed. “How can you know?”
“It is in vision. I wish to know…” Manisha took Kalanath’s unresisting hand. “A devesh has two parents. They give me respect because I am a madhi, but what of the other? He is respect—has respect too. And you were lost to me. I think it will you bring back in a small way.”
“That is the why,” Kalanath said. “But not the how.”
Manisha nodded. “I ask this many times of the old divines and they say, it is not a thing to do. But they do not ask God, they only use their own minds. I ask Chakhran, he say, I will ask. And God tells him.”
Kalanath still looked as if he’d been struck by his own staff. “Who is he? Nirana? Rakhyanam?”
“He was no one of power. A trader of things. Devout in his worship. He became a priest, and later a divine of the temple in Abhisok, after your birth.” Manisha smiled in reflection. “I remembered him. I do not remember all the men, but some are different. And he remembered me.”
“Of course he did,” Sienne said without thinking, and Manisha’s smile broadened.
“A man visits the madhi rarely, and they do not choose which,” she said. “It is to keep them from…so they do not confuse the madhi with the woman. Falling into error. We are God’s vessels and not women. But we, the madhis, we see, and we judge. Vaishant was different. His need—that is another, we do not ask what the men want of God that they approach the madhi—I remembered that he was sad, and he touch me like he will lose me. I do not forget this. His name mean nothing to me, when Chakhran say it, but when I see his face, it returns.”
“And he is part of the temple now,” Kalanath said.
“He come to Chirantan after we find him. A divine, like the others. But he is father to the devesh and worthy of respect because he is God’s will in flesh, like me. Like you.” Manisha drew in a deep breath. “And he and I are one.”
Kalanath’s eyes widened. “But you are madhi.”
“The old divines say it is not for me to be God’s vessel to men when I have borne the devesh. I do not be madhi while you are here—I am madhi still—” She scowled, and switched to Meiric. “I am still a madhi, but I do not welcome supplicants to my bed, not since I gave birth. Being your mother is how I am God’s vessel, which is why I am madhi. Do you understand?” In Fellic, she added, “Chakhran say I can choose, and I find in me a desire for one man. It is a pull, here.” She put her free hand over her heart. “It is that two of us make one—make you, Kalanath—and I wish to know my other part.”
“But…he might have been anyone. Might have married and had a family. Mother—” Kalanath sounded plaintive, like someone reaching for meaning in the midst of confusion.
“I think only to meet him. To tell him of you. Also to know what man is he. I do not think we are to be one.” She smiled again, that same peaceful, reflective smile. “Madhis do not love men, they love God. I do not expect—did not expect love. But Vaishant is one it is easy to love. You will see.”
Kalanath swallowed. “How long?”
“Nearly four years.”
“So you have not been alone.”
“No, my son, I am not alone.”
Kalanath nodded. “Then I am grateful to him in that.” He still looked stunned, and Sienne’s heart went out to him.
“You will meet him later. First Chakhran will speak to you. All of you,” Manisha said. “I do not know what he see in vision, but he say it is important.”
“He saw us in vision?” Alaric said. He set his teacup down with a tink. It looked tiny in his massive hands. “Why would he even think to look for us there?”
Manisha shrugged. “I do not know the mind of the Hierarch. Because he cannot see with eyes he sees most in mind—in vision. I do not think he sees you all, just Kalanath, because we he did not tell to expect more. But that was yesterday. Today, who knows?”
“Then let’s not delay any longer,” Alaric said, rising. “Will you take us to him?”
“Not right away,” Dianthe said. “I want to at least wash my face, and relieve myself. Are there facilities, Manisha?”
Manisha looked puzzled, so Sienne repeated the request in Meiric. “Of course,” Manisha said. “Back this way.”
There was a little room, just off the hall outside their quarters, with a tiled floor and a seat with a hole in it. Manisha showed them how to pump water into a pitcher and then pour it into the hole after relieving themselves. Sienne took her turn with some bemusement. Where did it all go? It didn’t smell as awful as the privies of Fioretti, but it had to go somewhere, and that place probably stank to the skies.
She wished she
had something nice to change into for meeting the Hierarch, but had to settle for wearing the cleaner of her two shirts and brushing her boots until they shone. Alaric picked up his sword and examined the flat of the blade. He sheathed it and set it aside. “I don’t think they mind if you go armed,” Sienne said.
“I’m pretty sure those niranas could give me a fight regardless,” Alaric said. “But the sword changes the tone of the discussion. And my instincts tell me we’re not in any danger.”
“I’m not leaving my spellbook.”
“Your spellbook isn’t a purely offensive weapon. I don’t think you should.”
The others had spruced up as best they were able. Dianthe had also left her sword in her room. Kalanath gripped his staff as if it were all that stood between him and a watery death. Manisha stood when Alaric and Sienne entered, and said, “You do not fear. Chakhran is a good man.”
“I’m sure he is,” Alaric said.
Sienne, watching Kalanath, wasn’t sure Kalanath agreed with this. Chakhran, Sienne recalled, had been among those who had participated in Kalanath’s vision, the one that had been flawed. Yet Ghrita had said he hadn’t consented to the old divines’ plan to breed Kalanath like a prize dog. Sienne felt nervous on Kalanath’s behalf. It had to feel a little like walking back into the lion’s den.
Manisha led them through the windowless passages, which didn’t look any different in daytime. If she had to live here, Sienne was sure she’d completely lose track of time. The air was silent, dry, and odorless, and made Sienne’s skin feel parched. When they emerged from the passages into the pillared walkway surrounding the garden, she breathed in the moist air with relief.
The garden was even more beautiful in daylight than she’d imagined. Cypress trees like living pillars cast narrow shadows across the short grass, sheltering benches and throwing stripes of darkness over the bubbling fountain. The water in its shallow, broad basin rippled with the spray from the trumpet perched atop its tall spire and made Sienne think longingly of a bath.
Aside from themselves, the garden was empty. Manisha gestured at the benches. “Sit,” she said. “Chakhran joins us soon.”
Sienne crossed to the fountain and breathed in the cool mist. It was only an hour or so after sunrise, but the air was already warm, and the cloudless sky hinted at a scorcher of a day. “Where is everyone?” she asked.
“The niranas practice,” Manisha said. “The madhis prepare for the day. The divines pray.”
“The garden is for meditation after noon,” Kalanath said. “For when it is hottest.”
“Perhaps not the best place for it,” a voice said. Chakhran walked toward them, unaccompanied, avoiding benches and trees as if he could see them. His sunken eyes were two pools of shadow. “There are many distractions. I was taught, when I was young, that learning to ignore distractions brought one closer to God, but I wonder now if God does not give us the world to see what we will dismiss as mere distractions.” He found his way to the fountain and swished his hand in the water, then sniffed it, and smiled. “Like this fountain. I can still remember how beautiful it is, even thirty years from the last time I saw it.”
“You’ve been blind thirty years?” Sienne asked.
“Thirty-two this winter.” Chakhran reached out and put his hand on her arm, gently feeling his way to her shoulder. “You are the wizard.”
“Yes. Did you…see me in vision?”
“I feel the strap of your spellbook,” Chakhran said with another smile. “Please, all of you, make yourselves comfortable.” He settled cross-legged on the ground beside the fountain. Sienne sat next to Alaric on a bench and tried not to fidget. Chakhran’s stillness made her feel as if even normal movement was manic. She ran her fingers over the cool marble and stilled her tapping foot.
“You have been companions—that is the term, yes?—for over a year,” Chakhran said. “Companions, and friends.”
“We have,” Kalanath said, glancing at Alaric, who made no move to speak.
“And before that, Kalanath, you supported yourself alone,” Chakhran said.
“I had to.” Kalanath’s reply was curt, and he looked everywhere but at Chakhran.
“You resent me,” Chakhran said.
“You were there, and did nothing,” Kalanath said. “I do not see why I should trust you.”
“Kalanath,” Manisha began.
“It is fair, Manisha,” Chakhran said. “He was kept uninformed then. Do you wish to know the truth now?”
“What truth?” Kalanath said.
“The word of God about Her devesh is written in many places,” Chakhran said. “It is not long. It says the devesh is Her voice to Her people and explains what must be done to hear that voice. We followed that instruction, and received revelation we could not understand. The Hierarch at the time believed this was because the devesh was tainted. There was disagreement on this point. Some of us, myself included, believed it was we who were unworthy. We were in the minority, and the Hierarch devised the plan to create more deveshi by force.”
“I know this.”
“What you do not know is that your escape had our help. It was not a perfect plan. We could not simply spirit you away, and when you were nearly caught, we could not justify allowing Manisha to escape with you. And we did not expect God to turn Her face from us regardless. But we did our best. And when it became clear that God’s displeasure had fallen on us, we took advantage of the turmoil to reveal what the Hierarch had intended for you—a thing that never had the support of most of the divines. He was ousted, and we set about regaining God’s favor.”
“And you gained power.”
“Be respectful, Kalanath,” Manisha warned.
“He has a point,” Chakhran said. “I was associated with those who tried to thwart God’s will. How did I end up in power when the others were dismissed?” He folded his hands in his lap. “We always leave it to God to choose Her Hierarch. I cannot reveal the nature of that choosing, because it is sacred, but every divine witnessed my calling. I assure you, it was not something I sought.”
“So how much of my life was false?” Kalanath exclaimed, rising from his seat. “The rules that bound me, the foods I ate and the lessons I learned—”
“All prescribed by God, not by man,” Chakhran said. “I can show you where it is written. But those rules did not make you a devesh. You would have been a devesh had you lived your entire life outside the temple. That was the thing we did not understand—that God’s word for you was meant to guide you, not to create something that already existed. I am sorry we did not understand that before.”
“I have a father.”
“You do. He is a good man.”
Kalanath resumed his seat. “I will not stay.”
Manisha gasped.
“This I have seen in vision,” Chakhran said. “You have far to go before you regain your home. You seek Ma’tzehar.”
Alaric shifted. “You’ve seen that?” he asked. “How much have you seen, I wonder?”
“More than you suspect.” Chakhran leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees. “Enough to know you are not human.”
Sienne sucked in a startled breath. Alaric went very still. “You are close enough,” Chakhran went on, “and your desires and regrets are all very human. But you are shadowed by the creature that is your other self. Don’t be afraid. I have no intention of telling anyone.”
Sienne couldn’t help stealing a glance at Manisha. She looked placid, not shocked or horrified. Did she lack the language skills to know what Chakhran had said, or was she already aware of the truth?
“You have the advantage of me,” Alaric said. “That’s not something I share with everyone.”
“It was not something I sought out,” Chakhran said, “or at any rate, I did not descend into vision in search of secrets I could hold over you. I believe God gave me that vision so I would not treat your quest lightly. You seek to free your people, and you believe Ma’tzehar is the key to that freed
om. And you intend to ask our help in finding it.”
Sienne stared at Alaric. His expression was unreadable, the way it got when he was thinking hard about a problem. “We’d intended to search for Ma’tzehar ourselves,” he said, “but that was before you people tracked Kalanath down. Now…” He narrowed his eyes in thought. “You seem to know everything else—tell me why we’re after Ma’tzehar at all.”
“The temple,” Chakhran said promptly. “You believe the key to the ritual you seek is in the temple in Ma’tzehar.”
Alaric nodded. “Are we right that the city still exists?”
“It certainly exists. Finding it is difficult for those not of the temple. Reaching it is even more so. But it exists.” Chakhran frowned. “Scrying for it is pointless, as there are no landmarks to identify its location. And queries about it tend to fail.”
“Why is that?” Dianthe asked.
“It is under a doom,” Chakhran said, as casually as if she’d asked about the weather. “We believe God wanted it to disappear. Mahemnetzehar, as it once was, defied God, and was punished.”
“I read that the city was once the jewel of Omeira,” Sienne said.
“That may or may not be true. I suspect that legend has its roots in the human tendency to romanticize the past. But it was definitely a powerful city.”
“Then…is it true there were wizards there?”
“That, we also have no knowledge of. Omeira has no wizards.”
“I don’t understand that,” Sienne said. “Wizards are born, not made. How could Omeira happen to be the one place in the world that doesn’t have them?”
“I have no answer for you. When a child is born, we petition God for a blessing upon it, and among the things we ask is that it be free from corruption—that is, anything that might keep it from being one with God. Magic is one of those things. And no Omeiran child has ever been touched by magic.” He inclined his head in her direction. “I mean no offense. We do not consider it evil, just not for us.”
“I see,” Sienne said, though she was a little offended. “So this blessing…removes magic from a child who might otherwise be a wizard?”
Sands of Memory Page 10
