by Claudia King
Sayla began to feel sick, grief filling her chest in the wake of her displaced anger. But the thing she'd seen was not her sister! It was the same demon her mother had cast out all those years ago. With a shock Sayla realised that she had still been a child back then, and now she was a woman. How many seasons had turned in between? She thought of all the happiness the Moon People had taken from her in those years, culminating in the loss of everything she had held dear. Those things had made Sayla who she was. She wasn't anything without them. Just Rat.
The sobering thoughts helped to cool her temper into something more cunning. She couldn't just sneak back into the temple and kill the seeress, not while she was still under the protection of the high priests. Even Thakayn wanted the woman alive, but he didn't understand the full truth of what she was. Sayla did not believe for a moment that he was keeping one of the Moon People here knowingly. Why would Thakayn want a demon like her sleeping beneath his roof, especially when he had spent so long trying to purge the curse from Liliac and his followers? No, he must still believe that Adel was just a normal woman bewitched by some sinister magic.
Sayla didn't know whether Netya and the other acolyte were demons, ghosts, or empty shells possessed by the seeress, but she would have to deal with them too. How, though? If the Dawn King had still been alive she might have gone to him with the truth. He would have had the power to do something about it.
Her skin prickled as she remembered the task Thakayn had given her earlier. The shock of seeing Netya's face again had driven it from her mind momentarily, but now it was back. Any qualms she might have had about helping Thakayn become Dawn King paled in the face of her anger toward the Moon People. If Thakayn held power over the other priests then he would be able to command the temple warriors to do anything he wanted. Once she told him the truth he would be able to live up to his promise, and she would kill the Moon People for him. It was the only way. Or at least, the quickest and most certain.
Trembling with nervous energy, Sayla hurried up the steps from the central hall toward the high priests' domiciles. A guard was there watching the hallway.
“I need to speak with the priest of the Brother,” she said.
To her dismay, the man shook his head. “Not wise, not today. He's in a foul mood.”
“I don't care what mood he's in, it's important.”
“Unless you're here with a message from his woman—”
“I am,” Sayla said hastily. She remembered the name Thakayn had told her earlier. “Lydane.”
The guard rubbed his neck and glanced down the hall behind him. “Fine. You'd better have good news for him, or spirits have mercy on the both of us.” He led her past the doorways until they reached the one bearing the symbol of the Brother. The sound of sandals pacing angrily across the boards came from inside.
“High Priest,” the guard called nervously. “A messenger from Lydane.”
Radeen-Na yanked the drapes aside and glared out at them. His face was coloured with anger, and his hair was wet. “Why isn't the woman here herself?” he demanded. When neither Sayla nor the guard said anything he snorted and gestured for her to come inside. “Out with it, then. Is she ready to speak with me at last, or does she need a messenger to do it for her?”
“There is something you should know,” Sayla said, swallowing the lingering guilt of her lie. “It is about High Priest Hasham and your woman.”
“That fat toad.” Radeen-Na grabbed her by the shoulders. “What's he been saying to her? What are those two plotting behind my back?!”
He was in a fiery mood, ripe and willing to be swayed. Thakayn must have known this would be the perfect time. Thinking only of her revenge, she told Radeen-Na everything Thakayn had told her to say.
—44—
Succession
It was unusual for the conclave to meet at a time like this, especially at such short notice. The high priests often had important duties to attend to in the afternoons, and Jarek himself had been in the middle of a discussion with a group of labourers about how the temple's fetid refuse pile might be cleared. The servant who arrived to summon him looked quite out of breath, as if he had searched the whole temple before realising the high priest was outside.
Jarek looked up at the sun and judged that there was still about a third of the afternoon's daylight left. He'd been hoping to decide on a course of action and get the men started on clearing the refuse before nightfall. It was sure to be unpleasant work, but something had to be done about the rats and the horrible stench that assailed anyone coming up the path toward the temple. In the long term they would need a better place to throw away their inedible food scraps and soiled sundries, for the problem would only get worse as the population of the temple grew. It was a matter he had been meaning to give deeper consideration over the winter. Those thoughts had to be put aside once the messenger arrived, however.
After sharing a brief conversation with the labourers, many of whom seemed just as exasperated as him by the interruption, Jarek bid them farewell and summoned another priest to continue where he had left off. He made his way back to the temple and in through the gates, wondering what could possibly be so important as to warrant a meeting of the conclave at a time like this. Initially he was nervous that something dire might have happened, but there was no uproar like there had been the day Atalyn died. The temple went about its afternoon routines in the same soft, subdued manner it always did. Audiences had ended for the day, and servants were rearranging the feasting hall in preparation for the evening meal.
As he was making his way up the steps he heard Adel calling to him from one of the hallways.
“Jarek!” She looked anxious as she approached, glancing back and forth as if she was looking for someone. “Have you seen Netya?”
“No, I've been outside this afternoon.” He took her hands and held them for a moment, smiling when the tension in her palms eased a little. “What's wrong?”
“I can't tell you here,” she whispered. As always, Thakayn's guards were close behind her. “It's important I find her, but these fools will barely let me go anywhere. Are you busy?”
“If I were any busier I'd be burning holes in my sandals, but for you that's a danger I'll brave. The conclave can wait a little while longer.”
Adel looked concerned. “Are you meeting them again?”
“Yes, though I've no idea why. Someone may have gotten angry, that's usually why we meet at strange times.”
“Then go, you fool, don't waste your time with me. I can find Netya by myself.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She smiled and kissed him. That she could do it so freely, so openly now, was a bittersweet delight to Jarek. He hoped she would carry that happiness with her for a long time after they parted. “Go on,” Adel said. “Don't make them wait for you. Anything those men decide may be important to us.”
Jarek lingered for a moment as he watched her go, doing his best to make it awkward for Thakayn's guards to move past him. Making a show of surprise, he threw both arms around their shoulders and offered a profuse apology, as if he'd been unaware that he was blocking their way. The men were clearly annoyed, but for fear of offending the high priest they remained silent until he let them go. Jarek smiled after Adel as she disappeared into another hall farther up the steps, hoping he'd given her enough of a head start to evade her watchers for a while.
The chamber the conclave met in was on one of the temple's higher tiers, yet it was one of the oldest parts of the temple that had been built. Jarek remembered Atalyn's history lessons about how his people had first built shrines and stone dwellings high up on the hill, then sleeping halls where pilgrims could stay overnight. He'd connected all of those scattered buildings into his great temple over time, turning a small hilltop settlement into a monument that towered over the surrounding lands.
An attending servant lifted the heavy drapes for him as he approached the passage to the conclave chamber, but he did not follow Jarek in, for on
ly high priests were permitted to go any farther. It came as a shock, then, when Jarek emerged into the conclave chamber and saw two warriors flanking Thakayn at the head of the table. He stood there in surprise for a moment, suddenly fearful that something terrible might have happened. He glanced around the table. Everyone else was there in their place. Eral looked nervous, Mountain Sky passive, and Radeen-Na and Hasham were furiously angry. Jarek felt a terrible dread take hold of him, as if he had just stepped into the shadow of a some great impending calamity. Only Thakayn was not occupying the seat reserved for the priest of the Sister. As he looked up at Jarek from what had formerly been Atalyn's bench, a poisonous smile spread across his lips.
“You're late, Jarek, but fortunately we did not need you. Eral and Radeen-Na have both reached an agreement. I am your Dawn King now.”
* * *
Adel managed to make a quick inspection of the halls in the upper part of the temple before the guards caught up with her again, but it proved just as fruitless as the rest of her search. Most of the halls held shrines or stores of ceremonial herbs and clothing, none of which gave Netya and Kiren any reason to be there. Thakayn's men had never put their hands on Adel before, but this time their patience appeared to have reached its limit.
“You might think you can do whatever you like,” the surly one snapped at her, “but you're no priest.” He dragged her down the steps by the arm, turning to his companion as they went. “You think Thakayn will finally have her whipped for this?”
The other man grunted noncommittally. He seemed completely disinterested in the task he'd been given.
“Take your hands off me,” she said in her most authoritative tone, ripping her arm out of the man's grasp. He looked indignant and attempted to grab her again, but Adel stepped out of his reach. “You're not to harm me, by Jarek's orders. I am back where I'm supposed to be now, am I not?”
The warrior looked to his companion, who only shrugged in agreement. With a grimace he took a step closer to Adel and rested his hand on the blade hanging from his belt. “Try that again, and we'll be allowed to lay more than just hands on you.”
Adel stared him down until he turned away, then resumed her search of the lower tiers. Netya and Kiren could not have disappeared entirely. She'd probably just missed them in her earlier haste. Sayla's appearance had disturbed her, and she needed to make sure Netya was prepared for whatever might happen next. The wretched girl's anger had made her impossible to reason with, much to Adel's dismay. Perhaps she was irreparably broken, but if there was any compassion left in her heart then Netya would be the one who could find it. If not, Sayla might end up killing one of them, though it was more likely she'd meet her end at the tip of a guardsman's blade. Adel did not want either of those things to happen.
To her relief she found Netya and Kiren waiting outside the feasting hall. They looked sheepish when they saw her approaching. Adel realised that her expression had been so intense that her relief probably looked like anger to them.
“Where have you been?” she asked, pulling them aside into a corner of the central hall. Most of the temple had begun gathering for the evening meal, and the place was becoming crowded.
“Kiren was showing me a spot out on the hillside, right beneath the temple watch,” Netya said. “Why? Has something happened?”
“Yes. I can't tell you here.” Adel glanced over at the guards. “Come up to my domicile. You too, Kiren.”
They did not make it as far as the domicile. At the foot of the steps they stopped, their path blocked by a great procession of priests and warriors. Thakayn was making his way down toward them, and at his back stood Mountain Sky, Radeen-Na, Eral, Hasham, and Jarek. Several other priests and warriors brought up the rear, many of whom were chanting the verses of a prayer. Silence descended upon the hall as all eyes turned in their direction.
“My people,” Thakayn said, extending his arms out over the crowd. “The conclave has decided. Atalyn may be gone, but his legacy lives immortal. From this day forth, I will bear his name as the Dawn King.”
Adel stared in disbelief as the men and women around her bowed their heads in reverence. The declaration had stunned her like a blow to the chest. Just a day ago it had seemed as if she would soon be making peace with Hasham as the next Dawn King. Now all of her efforts had been undone. How had it happened? Her heart sank to the bottom of her stomach. She had been too slow, too passive. Thakayn's constant attention had stifled her efforts while he went about his own schemes undisturbed. Somehow he had swayed Radeen-Na into supporting him, and now all of her hopes for peace had been dashed. It was as great a setback as Adel had ever felt. She looked to Jarek and saw that his expression held the same despair as her own, along with a note of urgency.
Run, his face said. Go, before he traps you here forever.
Adel felt instinctively for her wolf, grabbing Netya and Kiren by the arms. But her wolf was not there. It was as still and silent as it had been for the last several days. In desperation she tried to change shape. Even that was not enough. With a sickening sense of dread, she realised now why Thakayn had never managed to provoke her during their meals together. Her wolf had not been there to answer her emotions. Thakayn must have made sure of it by slipping the herbs into her food. No wonder he'd showed such little fear at being alone with one of the Moon People.
Adel turned to the other two women and whispered in their native tongue, “Can you call your wolves?”
Kiren's brow knotted in frustration. After a moment Netya said, “No. It's not there.”
Fear clutched at Adel's heart. They'd been fools to think Thakayn would passively trust in Jarek to make sure they kept taking the herbs the same way Atalyn had. One of his servants must have been preparing Netya and Kiren's meals too.
“Seeress.” Thakayn's voice came like a chill gust from behind her. “You turn your back on me and whisper while others bow. Show your Dawn King his proper respect.”
Adel noticed the two guards moving closer to her. The surly one wore a wicked grin. Averting her eyes in deference, she turned around and made herself bow to Thakayn. Terrible memories flooded back to her of the time Alpha Miral had forced her to do the same thing, when she had knelt helpless in the rain, Netya's life in the alpha's hands and Caspian seemingly dead beside her. Just like back then, she had no power any more, not even the strength of her wolf to call upon. She was a helpless child, cowed by a man who held absolute power over her.
Unlike all those other times before, Adel felt her shoulders sag in defeat. She'd fought her father. She'd fought Miral. She'd fought Thakayn. The thought of pressing on now, of continuing another awful battle that could only ever end in tragedy, filled her with despair. Somehow she'd believed that losing Jarek would be the worst of it; that if the spirits demanded her lover in exchange for peace, then she would be willing to let go of him. Now they had not even given her that much. For the first time in years she felt truly old. Weary, dispirited, and willing to give up. Only the thought of the people she had to protect, of Netya and Jarek and Kiren, kept her from sinking into hopelessness. Whatever terrible things Thakayn might do as Dawn King, she could at least shield her people from the worst of them.
With the effort of a dying beast lifting its head one last time, Adel straightened her back and looked up at Thakayn.
“You have my congratulations, Dawn King,” she said. “In honour of Atalyn's wishes, I request that my acolytes and I be allowed to leave now that the succession has been settled.”
It was a desperate appeal to Atalyn's memory, but in the presence of so many people it might work. Thakayn would never let them go home without a fight, she knew, but if they could get out of the temple they might at least stand a chance at running. Adel heard a murmur of assent ripple through the crowd. A ceremonial gesture in Atalyn's name seemed to appeal to them. Surely it would secure Thakayn's newfound authority in their eyes.
“Now is not the right time, seeress,” Thakayn said. “Tomorrow we shall hold a great cere
mony to mark my ascension before all the spirits. It would be wrong for you to miss such an event, for how else would you bring word of my glory back to your homeland?” He beckoned to the guards flanking Adel. “Bring her to me. Her acolytes, too. I can think of no one I would rather share tonight's meal with.”
The surly guard's hand closed tight around Adel's arm. His companion moved behind Netya and Kiren, ushering them forward. Adel glanced toward the temple gates in desperation, but they were blocked by a crowd of people coming in from outside.
“The rest of you,” Thakayn called to the assembly. “Feast, and celebrate! Prepare yourselves for tomorrow's ceremony. Before midnight I will send priests with instructions for all of you. The temple shall not sleep.”
A chant of congratulation rose up from the crowd, but to Adel's ears it sounded weak and faltering. Not all of them had wanted Thakayn as their Dawn King.
Well, powerless people cannot choose their alphas, Adel thought bitterly. Not unless we fight for it.
Somehow she doubted the laypeople would ever turn on Thakayn. He was too cunning for that. The terrible things he did to them would be hidden, misdirected by his winning, golden-haired beauty. He'd make villains of those who opposed him and heroes of his supporters. And the Moon People would suffer most of all. The pilgrimages would continue, and this time they would be seeking to claim more captives for their new master. Thakayn would be able to use Atalyn's death to justify anything he wanted.
Perhaps I should have killed him. I could have stopped this. How many lives might I have saved had I chosen that path?
Adel could not let herself get swept up in her own doubts, not now. She was tripping on the steps as the guardsman hauled her up toward Thakayn, bringing her closer to the new Dawn King by the moment. The thought of sharing another meal with him was unbearable. His victorious smile made her want to vomit. What would he do with them now that there was no one to stand in his way? Provocations and threats were no longer the worst she had to fear.
