by Kyrja
Jarles shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to say.”
Chared drew some more symbols and the people watching them gasped aloud, then slowly started to disburse, talking excitedly among themselves.
“You made us invisible?” Sabbah asked.
“I did,” Chared nodded, turning his attention to Nieva. “There, there, little one,” he spoke quietly, petting her feathers as he lowered her to the ground. You’re safe now.”
Chapter Six – Missed Opportunity
“You told me he was coming,” Baya said, nodding towards Chared as he and his companions walked past her on the street near the Temple of Life.
“But what do we do now?” Aku wanted to know, picking at imaginary scabs on her arms. “Sharun won’t like it,” she half-whispered, not bothering to look up to confirm Baya’s announcement.
“Sharun doesn’t like much of anything,” Baya returned, still watching Chared. She had waited her whole life to meet him, and now that he was here, she wasn’t sure what to do about her feelings. She hated him and wanted to know all about him in equal measure. Because of him, she would never have a normal life, but because of him, she was alive. She had long wondered what he looked like, and now she knew. It was getting dark, but it was still light enough to tell his skin wasn’t as dark as hers, and his hair was lighter too. She couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, but at least he was tall, and not short. Or ugly. On the other hand, she wouldn’t have minded if he was ugly. Or disfigured. Anything to make him suffer would have been all right with her.
Oh, she knew he’d been the “Chained Man” for most of her life, and had even seen him a number of times in the past few years as he had lain there, where everyone could see him. But she had never taken the time to look at him, because she hadn’t known he was her father. Even as a child, she hadn’t been curious about him, somehow afraid that if she looked at him, she would end up chained too. As if what he had done had been contagious! It didn’t matter how untrue or ridiculous she knew it was, now that she was grown. She had been afraid of him, of becoming like him, and so had avoided being anywhere near him. And now … now that she knew she very well may be just like him, she wanted to meet him. She knew several others who wanted the same thing, although there wasn’t exactly a consensus as to why each of his children wanted to meet the man who had fathered them. She wasn’t among those who wanted to see him dead, but she knew she wouldn’t mind if he suffered for making all of them suffer.
She had known he hadn’t aged in all the time he’d been chained to that rock. Something like twenty years, is what she’d been told, but it was still very, very odd to look at the man she knew was her father and see that he wasn’t all that much older than she was. Somehow hearing about it and seeing it with her own eyes made things very, very different. She wondered if seeing Chared would make any difference to Sharun or some of the others. Or if having any answers to any of their questions would make any of them feel any better, or worse.
And, of course, she wondered if anyone was going to tell High Priestess Khashya that Chared was here. She hoped not. She wanted the chance to find out more about him. About the real person he was, instead of what she’d been told and what she’d heard. For some of the others, she wasn’t so sure. But then, not all of his children knew he was here, only a few. Aku was the one who’d seen that he would come, and most wouldn’t believe her anyway. Most saw her as the worst of Chared’s “freaks.” Baya understood they were mostly afraid of her, but it was easier to make fun of what you didn’t know. Making fun of a thing – or a person – made it easier to discount them as having any worth. And nobody wanted to believe most of the things Aku had to say. She reminded everyone too much of the stories of the insane Merlarn that Chared was best known to be.
Nor had the first-hand accounts of his recent actions gained him any favor. He had tried to kill Savaar, Amphedia’s best-loved son. The last she’d heard, Chared had lost favor with the Storm Goddess, but it was impossible to wade through all the gossip to even begin to understand what may and may not be true. If his actions hadn’t touched her own life, she probably would never have given him a second thought. No matter that Amphedia was said to have battled Sov, saving everyone before she was consumed by his dying breath, her own life had changed little because of those events. What mattered, though, was that Chared, her father, had been found to have unnatural parents. His mother had been, somehow, created by Giya, while his father had come from Bila – a land nobody had heard of until recently, because nobody had known it existed! And because of this, she was never allowed to have children. She would be allowed to live out her life, but she would never be able to have children. Baya didn’t care so much about that part, but what she did care about was the fact that she was now forced to live in a compound made up entirely of the children Chared had fathered. Now, practically every aspect of her life was monitored and dictated. Everyone was afraid of what she, and those like her, might do, or become.
It wasn’t as bad for her, she knew, as it was for some of her older siblings. Chared had come to the City by the Sea when he was very young and because he was a Diviner who could actually call water beneath the sand to him, instead of just an Undia, who could only sense the water, he had been used over and over again in the hope of creating the long-awaited savior. If Chared had never become the Chained Man, he would probably be more than fifty years old, she knew. Maybe closer to sixty. Which meant the first of the children he’d fathered were close to forty, with children of their own. Whole families were affected by the new edict that all of Chared’s children were now suspect and to be feared. It was insane, and stupid, and Baya knew she wasn’t likely to have the opportunity to confront her father again, so if she was going to do it, she needed to do it now.
She had gone so far as to ask Aku if she was able to see the outcome if she confronted Chared, but had known before she asked that she wasn’t likely to get an answer that made any sense. She had asked anyway, pulling on her earlobe for luck, but it hadn’t done any good. Just like any other time she asked about her father, the only thing Aku ever said was that the rooster wasn’t the one who controlled time. It was maddening, sometimes, wondering if Aku even knew what she was saying. Sighing deeply, she decided that if she didn’t confront him, she would never have any answers. The worst that could happen would be that he would tell her to go away and leave him alone. At least, she hoped that was the worst thing that could happen.
* * * * * * * *
Amphedia smiled, amused, as she watched the young woman come out of the alley where she’d been hiding as she hurried along after Chared. There was no doubt in her mind the woman was one of his offspring. One of the many. None had bothered to confront him or track him down previously because it had never occurred to them to do so. Why would they? Children were never concerned whether they had one parent or four; they accepted the reality of their family members as fact. Neither the Tuq’deb nor the Puj’hom, as they liked to call themselves, had ever experienced what many other societies thought of as a “normal” family with one mother and one father. At least not since she had stolen control of the seas from Giya and had made her demand that all those who could feel the water beneath the sands be sent to her.
It had been ridiculously easy to convince the woman, Khashya, that it was necessary to keep all of Chared’s children tightly under control. True believers were the most-gullible, and this particular High Priestess had been devoted to her all of her life. As a child, she’d had the good fortune of being just the right age at just the right time, so that when her parents had brought her to the sea to be drowned, it had been an easy task to select her to be the next record keeper – something she’d done every ten years or so, to ensure that everything went according to her own design. The wealth and sense of entitlement she and her family members enjoyed were due to the small stream of “blessings” and “miracles” Amphedia bestowed on them to ensure their continued devotion.
Nor had her most-recent visit
been the first time Khashya had enjoyed a private audience with her goddess-made-flesh. Loyalty was a trait best tested from time to time, so she had shared small tasks and secrets with the woman in the past. Khashya had come to value the blessings she received for her discretion, just as she was doing now, for having obeyed her instructions, despite her own, inner voice – some would call it ethics or morals, Amphedia knew – causing her no small personal distress. Despite her manipulations on behalf of her goddess, Khashya cared deeply that her work was flawless and that the people she served were well cared for. She was all too aware, however, just how quickly her fortune could change, having had a young son drown shortly after having expressed her misgivings about another matter Amphedia had wanted taken care of. She was sure that Khashya had learned her lesson well enough that the woman wouldn’t let something so trivial as the truth to cause her to lose more family members.
Besides, she had given Khashya enough information that was true that the woman could hardly begrudge her a few colorful alterations. The only thing she was truly forbidden from was revealing that she had learned of Chared’s parentage from her. How she managed to convince enough of the other high priests and priestesses was her own challenge. Nor had Khashya failed. Amphedia had been delighted when the first of Chared’s offspring had been identified and taken to a section of the city now reserved just for them. And Khashya’ s sick, bed-bound husband had suddenly recovered completely! Why, he could even walk now, for the first time in three years!
She would have preferred that none of Chared’s offspring were ever able to leave the confines of their compound, but that simply wasn’t possible. She was eager to see how this interaction between Chared and one of his daughters would turn out. She doubted he had even ever thought of any of the children he’d helped to create; he’d been too enthralled with worshipping her to concern himself with the outcome of the duties he had performed in her name.
Those days were long gone, of course, which was truly a shame. He’d been most-useful a number of times in the past. If she would have known how things would transpire, she would have kept him by her side for no other reason than to ensure he didn’t interfere with her own plans. She had, in fact, tried to kill him three times while he lay chained to the stone all those years, but had failed. She’d known after the first attempt that something was entirely wrong about him, but hadn’t been able to determine the reason. Giya. She should have known.
The taste of ashes was bitter in her mouth. All those years of careful planning on her part to create the savior she had intended were for nothing. Giya had quietly gone behind her back time after time, leaving all of her plans in ruin. She’d almost died saving this world from Sov’s death spiral and the Earth Goddess had even had a hand in that! How she had managed to keep Nohoyo hidden from her for centuries was infuriating. Soon, though, Amphedia knew, Giya would be the one with the taste of ashes – choking her!
First, though, she had to make absolutely certain Chared would be unable to interfere. She hadn’t yet recovered from her ordeal with her dearly-departed-but-unmourned brother, Sov. Getting rid of Chared and his offspring would be the perfect distraction while she regained her strength.
She didn’t like the fact that Jarles and Sabbah were with Chared, though. Each was unpredictable enough; together, they might force her to take steps she wasn’t yet prepared to take.
* * * * * * * *
Aku counted the number of steps she knew she would have to take, never lifting her face from the cobblestones beneath her feet. She had witnessed the scene she knew was unfolding behind her too many times to have to stay and watch it with her own two eyes. She would be needed at the back door of the temple when Baya got there. It’s why she’d worn an extra shirt today, so that she would be able to tear it to pieces to take care of Baya’s arm. She sighed, wanting the visions to leave her alone. There was always so much to do. If she would stop having them, then she could stop doing the things she knew needed to be done. She would have preferred to be ignorant of such terrible things. It didn’t really matter though. She was here, doing what she knew needed to be done. Baya was the only one who ever treated her nicely. Even when she scratched her own arms until they bled, or pulled her hair. She wanted to stop doing those things, but often didn’t even know she was doing it until it was too late to stop because it felt good and the bad thoughts seemed to be quieter then.
She didn’t like that Baya was going to be hurt, and had wanted to tell her not to go meet their father, but she knew if she had done that, Baya would have died anyway. She didn’t want her only friend to die, so she had kept quiet. And she had worn an extra shirt. When High Priestess Khashya opened the door, she would know where the water and herbs were, so it would be all right. All she could do now was to take another 358 steps and wait for Baya to come.
* * * * * * * *
Hardly able to breathe, with her heart pounding furiously in her chest, Khashya couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering together. She was scared out of her wits and had no idea at all how she was going to do what she knew must be done. If only she was sure the Storm Goddess would never be able to find her family members, then she would gladly do it willingly, but she was terrified they would be found no matter what she did. If she could just wake up and find out this was all some horrific nightmare, she would be grateful. But she knew it was all too real. Or if any of this even made any sense… but it didn’t, and there wasn’t anything she could do to make it make sense. None of it. She’d found she was unable to walk away though. No matter how profoundly she wanted to.
There! Baya was coming out of the alley, just as Aku had told her she would. Screaming no! no! no! no! over and over in her mind, she drew her cloak closer to her, then threw herself out of the doorway where she’d been waiting, unable to breathe, walking quickly towards Baya. She hadn’t caught up yet with the man Aku had told her would be Chared, and the two men with him. Whether Aku knew who the other two men were or not, Khashya didn’t know. She wouldn’t, or maybe couldn’t, tell her anything about the other two. Only that she must not let Baya meet Chared. Not yet. If she did, time would stop too soon. She wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly – who could ever tell exactly what Aku meant with the words she used? She’d made it clear, though, that time would stop, but if it stopped too soon, then everyone would die. Everywhere.
Khashya knew that she was one of the very few people Aku would have confided in, in the whole of the city, and she had worked very hard to get her to understand, using more words than she’d ever heard the young woman utter in the whole of her life. It was often impossible for her to get others to understand her, Khashya knew, because words couldn’t show people what she meant. Nor did Aku tend to think like most people did either. It always seemed as though, when she did choose to speak, she was starting from somewhere in the middle of what she wanted to say. As if the parts she didn’t say out loud should be obvious to everyone else, or that those pieces weren’t as important as the parts she did say.
Because she’d known the girl practically from the moment of her birth, Khashya knew her better than most and had been thrilled when she’d finally found a friend in Baya. She’d been terrified when Amphedia had told her that all of Chared’s children must be confined. None of them had ever been any different than any other child born of the Tuq’deb people. As the Record Keeper she had cause to know exactly who did and did not cause difficulties, dissention, and crimes throughout the city. None of Chared’s children had ever demonstrated “strange” abilities or unusual magical inclinations. Other than Aku. Which was exactly why she had always kept a very close eye on her. It had become obvious, as she’d learned how to understand the girl, that she saw things that often happened in the future. And so she had listened when she had told her that she must be at this place at this time, and this was what she must do.
“Come quickly and quietly,” she hissed at Baya, grabbing her by the elbow while pulling the other woman closer to her. Of course Baya had instin
ctively pulled away, but she’d held on tightly. “It’s important, Baya,” Khashya told her. “Please.” If that single word didn’t give her pause, nothing would. The two of them had forever been at odds. Baya was a free spirit and self-sufficient, while Khashya knew she needed order and everything in its place and was more likely to follow rules simply because things had “always” been the way they were. “Please” wasn’t something she would normally say when issuing demands she expected to be met. What she was doing now was completely against everything she’d ever felt comfortable doing, but she was convinced it was necessary.
“You just don’t want me to meet him,” Baya protested, thrusting an arm out to point towards Chared, who had continued on his way with his two companions.
“I don’t know if I want you to meet him or not,” Khashya admitted, “all I know is that you can’t meet him yet,” she said, emphasizing the last word.
Cocking her head with a frown on her face, she asked, “Aku?”
“Yes,” she agreed, “and before you ask, I don’t know why.” Tugging on Baya’s arm, she tried to pull her away from the main street, onto a side street when the whole street suddenly erupted in the harsh light and sound of an explosion. She was surprised when Baya was the one who reacted first, pushing her to the ground. She felt a rush of air leave her lungs when the young woman landed on top of her, then quickly rolled off, swearing as she moved.
“Are you hurt?” she croaked, then coughed several times, trying to get her breath back. She felt her body reacting from the shock of the explosion, as her hands started shaking involuntarily. If Baya replied, she wasn’t able to hear her, as the street was suddenly filled with voices shouting for Chared to show himself, to repent, to give himself up. Khashya knew she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was time to move. Now. She felt, more than heard, the groan she made when she tried to roll over to her knees to get up. Her ears were ringing and she thought she might throw up. In the next moment, she was being pulled to her feet by Baya.
