by Trudie Skies
She! The High Priestess of Rahn!
Mina wanted to whoop and laugh, but Iman had trained her better than that. Instead, she bowed low. “I swear to serve each and every one of you as your high priestess. For now, we continue as normal. We give the Housemen and their Council no reason to punish us further. As long as you remain in these walls, you’ll be safe. All of you. And if you have husbands, wives, or children who aren’t Fire Walkers, then we’ll accommodate them, too. I won’t split up families. I know how Leila ran things, but I’m not her. We’ll make room and get enough food and bedding for everyone.”
Leila shot her head up at that.
Salasar approached and shook his head. “So be it. I’ll inform the Council and start sending out orders to the other temples. Your duty is to this temple, first and foremost, but the Queen’s lurrite takes precedence.” He leaned close and whispered, “I’ll give you until the lurrite to reconsider this farce. Think about it. You don’t want to be responsible for their deaths.”
She gave him a flat stare. “You’re right. I don’t.”
“Lune’s luck.” He beckoned his guards and left the temple.
A few of the Fire Walkers rushed forward to speak with her, though some, she noted, kept a wary distance. It was those she’d need to win over next.
But she had one task to do first.
In the rush, Leila had slipped into the tunnel. Mina followed and found her in her glass chamber beside the wooden bookcase—the only furniture in the room.
The former High Priestess kept her back turned. “Don’t think this will be easy.”
“I never said it would be.”
“There’s no one to help you. No one to train you. Saeed is dead, and Samira may as well be. If you have a heart, Mina Hawker, you’ll exonerate her. She had nothing to do with Saeed’s crimes.”
Mina crossed her arms. “And you know that for a fact? You didn’t know Saeed was about to murder King Reinhart. He was your acolyte. He acted on the lies and hatred from your mouth.”
“I did my best to protect my people. You may not understand, but you soon will. You can’t protect them from war. Nor can you protect them from death.”
“I can at least burn their bones.”
Leila pulled a silver bangle from the bookshelf and slid it around her wrist. “I acted under orders, and where do you think those orders came from? You may be High Priestess now, but you still bow to the crown.”
“And Jahan’s bones? What crime did he commit to be refused a lurrite?”
“Harboring a secret Rhaesbond and breaking a vow of celibacy.”
“There is no reason to deny a man his afterlife. All bones need to be burned. As a Lunei, I’d expect you to understand that.”
Leila’s silver eyes met Mina’s at last, and their depths seemed to stretch for eternity, as though they carried the entire weight of their shared tribe. A tribe Mina had never belonged to, and likely never would.
Only Leila knew their secrets. And she too was walking away.
Mina couldn’t let her leave—not yet. There were too many questions. She grabbed Leila’s wrist and her fingers brushed against the bangle.
A jolt of sky fire burned through her spine, and a dark whisper echoed in her mind—You will lead them to their deaths.
Mina staggered back. Not a silver bangle, but one made from bone. “What is that?”
Leila rubbed her wrist. “Not all Shadows deserve an afterlife. War is coming to this land, Mina Hawker. There will be more death, more Shadows, and the two of us won’t be enough. I’m returning to the Duslands to find our people. To find the Lunei.”
The Lunei? Impossible. “The Lunei are gone.”
“They’re not gone. They’re waiting for the end.”
“What about the Queen’s lurrite?”
“Perhaps you should look to the fire for guidance.” She shoved past Mina and headed for the door. “It’s your problem now.”
16
LEECH
Blood pooled in the sands and began to congeal. The bodies needed to be burned, and soon. I cracked my knuckles and prayed.
“I don’t understand why you’re bothering,” Talin said. “They killed men. They don’t deserve to join Rahn in the afterlife.”
I finished my prayer and shooed him out of the way. “Do you want to be chased halfway across the desert by wraiths?”
Talin fetched a water canteen from his saddlebags and held it ready for me. “I won’t mourn them, that’s all.”
I bit back a smile and returned my attention to the bodies. Talin was right. These were raiders, slavers, and worse. One had died at Talin’s blade. Two at my own. They deserved their fate, but now their souls were my responsibility. It was my duty to return them to Rahn. And vengeful men in life often made vengeful spirits in death.
Fire tingled within my fingers. I whispered my mother’s words, the mantra she’d taught me to guide my flame. “I am the master of my own self. This fire is mine to control.”
A Shadow rippled across the bodies. I didn’t flinch. This was normal for me now. I’d seen so many Shadows since I was a child, spoken to so many of their spirits. Talin couldn’t see them. Thank the gods he couldn’t. This was my burden alone, and I didn’t need some foolish hot-headed Sanstrider disturbing the dead. Shadows tended to panic. Who wouldn’t, when faced with their own mortality?
Sand stirred around my feet. These would form wraiths if given the chance, but by Lune’s luck a Lunei had killed them. An Ash Maker would have left them to rot. It’s because of them sand wraiths stalked the desert at all.
“Tira?” Talin’s hand flinched by his sword hilt. The fact he hadn’t drawn it yet was touching. He’d finally learned to let me take charge.
The sands whipped into a flurry. I’d discovered long ago that a soothing voice and a stable flame calmed even the most hateful of spirits. I couldn’t afford to judge these souls for their sins. That wasn’t my role. I was merely a guide, Lune’s beacon in the darkness to lead them back to Rahn’s light.
I cast my flame with my left hand and drew my blade with my other, readying a dance.
If words didn’t calm them, a dance would.
“Lune guide you.”
Mina woke to her mother watching over her. Tira floated within the lantern still burning on her bedside table and welcomed her back to the land of the living with a warm smile. Sometimes it was hard to separate dreams from reality, but that one had been her mother’s memory. Gods, her father had looked so young. How old would they have been then? Mina’s age now? The blood bond had pulled her through her mother’s old lurrites and the steps she’d taken when dealing with the Shadows. And today, the day of the Queen’s lurrite, she needed all the help she could get. As the new high priestess, the honor fell to her to burn the bones.
“Thank you, mother,” Mina whispered.
Tira blew a kiss and vanished into the flame.
Mina sat up and groaned. Her head ached, and a familiar nausea cramped her stomach. The same discomfort as when she used too much blood fire. She glanced down at her red stained nightgown and cursed.
“That’s going to be a problem.” Iman came out of the cistern wearing a robe and a towel wrapped around her damp hair. She pointed to Mina’s legs.
Mina peeled herself off the lounger and inspected it. She’d returned to the Keep to spend one last night with her aunt before moving back into the temple, but she wouldn’t miss sleeping on this gods-damn thing. No blood had reached the fabric, thank the gods. “It’s always a problem.”
“You don’t understand me. You’ll need all your blood if you’re to handle a lurrite.”
Mina scowled. “What do you want me to do, put it back in? Why does Gai make us bleed if it weakens us? Men don’t have some gods-damn weakness.”
“Blood fire is stronger in women. The gods have to compensate somewhere. Why do you think the temples of Rahn are mostly filled with men?”
“
Because men are foolish and get caught easier?”
Iman snorted. “Girls are taught from a young age to sit down, shut up, and resist their urges. They naturally suppress their emotions, and thus their blood fire, whereas boys run rampant and allow their emotions to manifest freely. Your bleed acts as a natural suppressor, and blood fire stops altogether during pregnancy. It’s one reason why many women remain unaware of the power they possess, and why Fire Walker priestesses are meant to take a vow of celibacy.”
“Blood fire doesn’t work if a woman carries a child?”
“It would be too dangerous to the babe, so the body blocks the ability completely.”
“But that means my mother…”
“She couldn’t use her blood fire when she carried you. Although the ability comes back after the body recovers from birth, your mother lacked her gift when she was killed. She couldn’t summon fire to protect herself.”
Mina glanced to the lantern on her bedside table. Tira had returned, somehow aware of the conversation. With a sad smile, she nodded, confirming Iman’s tale.
Guilt gnawed at Mina’s stomach, as though it was her fault her mother couldn’t fight back.
“Are you sure this is the path you want, girl? You’re a little young for taking vows of celibacy.”
Her cheeks burned. “That vow didn’t stop Jonan from being born.”
“You’ve lived among Housemen; you know vows mean little to them. They’ll be watching you like a hawk and expect you to slip up.”
Mina made a face. “No chance.”
“Easy for you to say now. But in another year, when you’re in the company of the right man…” Iman cocked one eyebrow in a way that made Mina blush again.
Vows meant nothing to dishonorable men, but Mina had more honor than that. And she doubted she’d ever find a reason to break that particular vow. A lifetime of celibacy sounded better than being forced into marriage.
“So how am I supposed to do this gods-damn lurrite?”
Iman sighed as though unimpressed with her change of topic. “It’s not impossible to use blood fire when wounded, but the wound makes it more difficult to summon and maintain. You almost died the last time. You’re not ready for this.”
“Those were ten sets of bones. This is one. I can handle it.”
“And how do you plan to do that, oh mighty priestess?”
Mina headed for the cistern and pulled a face over her shoulder. “I know the right man to help.”
Jonan waited on a marble bench in the palace gardens. He sat awkwardly, as though being surrounded by so many flowers was beneath him, though he rose and swooped a deep bow at her approach.
“High Priestess.”
“Don’t you start.”
He lifted his head and smirked. “I hear you are to thank for my freedom. Leila would have left me to rot.”
Releasing Jonan had been Mina’s first act as priestess. “Talin would have gotten you out.”
“Talin has more important things to worry about. Like his troublesome daughter. Last I heard, he wasn’t preparing you for priesthood. You’re not the pious type.”
“I’ve spent enough time in the temple to learn that playing priest is more about looking angry than being pious, and I have plenty of experience at that.”
He chuckled and sat on the bench. He didn’t look any worse for his imprisonment.
She slouched beside him. So much had happened the past few days. This was her first chance to speak with Jonan and tell him the truth he deserved to know. “Your father’s Shadow was among the bones we burned. Jahan.”
His smile faded. “You saw him?”
“It was his Shadow who led us to the bones. And that wasn’t the first time I saw him. He led me to the Rahn’s Breath that Prince Ravel was growing.”
Jonan leaned back and rubbed a hand over his bald head. “Jahan was a Green Hand. Before he was discovered and thrown in the Temple of Rahn. My mother, Ashira… she loved him because he was kind. He grew an herb garden underground using a single shaft of Rahnlight. We all loved that garden. Leila destroyed it.”
She patted his shoulder. “I burned his bones. I saw his Shadow fade. He was happy to see you. He wished he could have named you his son.”
“I’m grateful, High Priestess.” He fumbled in his sahn and pulled out a small red felt hat—the same hat which had given Fez his name. “This was Jahan’s. The High Priestess of Gai gave it to me after his death. One of the few possessions he left behind.”
An echo of sadness and regret fluttered through the bond. Jonan carried that hat everywhere.
“If I ever cross paths with Leila again, I’ll become the Rhaesbond curse they expect of me.” His fists clenched in his lap.
“And give the Housemen reason to believe you’re behind the rogue Fire Walkers and their alleged attacks?”
“They don’t believe I’m involved. I bowed like a good dog and stood before Gareth and told them everything I know. Which is nothing. His Hartnord eyes confirmed I spoke the truth. Someone is using the Rhaesbond name to stoke fear. Can you think of any man who can’t keep quiet about House Rhaesbond and how dangerous Fire Walkers are?”
“Prince Ravel,” she seethed.
“I had the same thought. But his malice has always been directed toward the Fire Walkers. Not the Hartnords. Even if he is somehow faking the attacks by these rogue Fire Walkers and orchestrating riots in response, why would he want to drag the kingdom into a war?”
“I don’t know,” Mina admitted. Prince Ravel’s greatest wish had seemed to be coming true, with riots against the Fire Walkers and lynchings in the street. Now, the entire kingdom was focused on the impending war with the Hartnords and relying on the Fire Walkers to help them win it. If nothing else, the threat of war had squelched the angry mobs like dumping a bucket of water on a matchstick. “We have no proof either way. And nowhere to start.”
“We’ll discover who it is and destroy them, Master Malik. I’m at your service.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be by Talin’s side? As his sorran?”
“When a master releases his sorran, the bond is negated and broken forever. A sorran bond cannot be made twice.”
A twinge of pain passed through the bond, through his words. “I… I didn’t know that’s how the bond worked. This is why I need you. You grew up in the temple. You know all the things I’m supposed to. How can I be High Priestess when I don’t even know how blood bonds work?”
“I can do better than that. I trained to be a Fire Walker priest before my mother told me the truth of our bloodline.”
“You should be the High Priest.”
Jonan burst into laughter. “Can you imagine the outrage? It is a role meant for women. Besides, being High Priestess is more than rites and blood fire. You’re expected to converse with the populace and win their hearts. Such a challenge is impossible for me. You’re likely to stand a better chance… though maybe not.” He grinned savagely.
She thumped his arm. “You need to help me with this gods-damn lurrite. It’s the Queen—I can’t afford to get this wrong.” Gods, everyone will be there. “And I’m bleeding.”
Jonan looked puzzled. “Are you hurt?” His eyes widened in comprehension. “Oh. This is, I, uh… Have you asked Iman?” he spluttered.
“She said it’ll affect my blood fire. Someone needs to burn the Queen.” She cringed as she said the words aloud. She didn’t mean for it to sound so crass. “I think I can do the ceremony if someone can handle the fire part.”
“I can’t take your place. I doubt they’d allow a Rhaesbond anywhere near her.”
“Then what do I do? The Queen’s lurrite is this afternoon. It can’t wait.”
“Besides Leila, only approved acolytes can perform a royal lurrite. There is only one left in Solus… Samira. Release her from her cell, and if she’s still in one piece, she can burn the body.”
The way Jonan grimaced set her teeth on edge.
The crooked stone steps down to the dungeons held a cool stillness Mina never thought existed in Sandair. The underground tunnels in the Temple of Rahn were stifling as though Rahn wrapped them in his arms. Here, the tunnels were dank and the dampness caught in her lungs, causing her to cough. The dungeons were buried underneath the Keep’s military court, tucked away where no one would find them or even dare to look, given the number of armed soldiers in residence.
Dim lamplight lit Mina’s path. She fought the urge to summon her flame. Jonan hadn’t, and he stared ahead lost in thought.
“You were held down here?” she asked.
“No. These cells are for city folk. Beggars. Pickpockets. Men with gold are kept in more glamorous cells.”
“And they didn’t hurt you?”
“You would have felt it if they did.”
They reached the bottom of the steps and entered a cramped underground chamber. Talin had told her that Samira wasn’t involved with the rogue Fire Walkers, so why hadn’t anyone released her? Was she or Leila supposed to? Mina didn’t know how the law worked, only that the rules for city folk didn’t apply to Housemen. Criminals are criminals—if Samira had to suffer these cells, it was only fair Prince Ravel should have to as well.
A guard approached with a leer on his face. His expression changed as soon as his lantern’s light revealed their sahns. He ignored Jonan and turned to her. “What can I do you for, my lord?”
In the dim light, he’d mistaken her for a man. She was happy not to correct him. “You have a Fire Walker woman held here. A Solander by the name of Samira. I want her released.”
“On who’s authority? We dun just hand over burners—”
“On mine, as High Priestess of Rahn.”
The guard snorted. “You?”
Jonan tugged at his sahn, flashing its purple in the lamplight. “The Temple of Rahn is now under the control of House Arlbond. You speak to Lady Tamina Arlbond, the Sand Dancer, daughter of Lord Talin, and winner of the two-hundred and twenty-second Solaran Tournament. You may refer to her as High Priestess.”
