by Gregory Ashe
Chapter 79
Smoke stung Siniq-elb’s nostrils; several of the buildings in the temple compound blazed, lighting the dawn with more violent shades of red and grey than normal. The heat that poured out from the compound brought sweat to Siniq-elb’s forehead. It was worse than the ever-summer sun. He watched the Cenarbasin woman, Ilahe, disappear down the street. Somehow she had survived the wounds that the seir had inflicted on her—some type of magic brought from beyond the Atasi, he imagined. Siniq-elb did not know if she would survive the wounds that she bore inside; better than many, he knew how those wounds could fester.
Aside from the crackle of the flames, the morning air was still, but far from peaceful. Bodies littered the temple compound—soldiers and eses alike. In more than one place, Siniq-elb saw wights, or better said, fragments of wights, scattered through the remains of the melee. Whatever had happened in the temple this night, it went beyond a military coup, or a rebel assault on the tair. There was something different in the air, in the ground beneath Siniq-elb’s stumps. Something potent and charged, eager for release.
A group of eses, heads down, their green robes stained with ash, filed out of one of the larger buildings in the compound. Soldiers followed them into the open air, their chain and leather armor scarred, most with wounds. One of the soldiers gestured toward the gate, where Siniq-elb stood with Mece and Vas.
“We should go,” Vas said.
“No,” Siniq-elb said. “Not yet. The people in the Garden need someone to speak for them; the soldiers might not be eager to make any distinctions.”
“Let’s hope they start making distinctions with us, then,” Mece said, “because they don’t seem particularly pleased to see us out of the Garden.”
A squad of soldiers broke off and trotted toward them, while the remaining soldiers conducted the eses through the gate, past Siniq-elb and his companions, and out into the city. Among the soot-stained, injured eses, Siniq-elb caught sight of a broken nose, and next to him, a large, balding man. So. Crook and Bald had survived. That, at least, was a pity.
“How did you get out here?” one of the soldiers demanded. “The people of the Garden are to remain under guard until the Sword-bearer has decided what to do with them.”
“Where is the Sword-bearer?” Siniq-elb said. “I need to speak with him.”
“You’ll get your chance to talk,” the soldier said. “Not while we’re trying to secure the city, though. Take them back to the Garden.” Two soldiers stepped from the squad and drew their swords.
“Tell Sword-bearer Qilic that Siniq-elb Ayaou wants to talk to him. Tell him that what has happened in the past is of the past.”
“Back to the Garden,” the soldier said.
“What’s the trouble, Bahr?” a man shouted as the last of the eses stumbled out of the compound. He gestured to another man, and the two approached Bahr and the squad of soldiers. “Why are they out of the Garden?”
“No trouble, Sword-bearer,” the soldier named Bahr called back.
“That’s not Qilic,” Siniq-elb said. Qilic was a gruff, balding man who was twice as wide as an oak. The man ahead of them was tall, well-built, but nothing like Qilic.
“Sword-bearer Qilic died at the hands of a su-esis,” Bahr said. “This is the new Sword-bearer.”
Qilic dead too. Siniq-elb’s list of people to get revenge on was growing shorter and shorter, but he felt no satisfaction. Only that hollowness he had felt in the chamber under the temple. The new Sword-bearer continued toward them, tailed by his attendant. There was something familiar in the way the man walked. He wore the long, elaborately tied, green and brown sash of the Sword-bearer on his upper arm, but sunlight glittered off a silver chain there as well. Something this man had added to the uniform.
“Natam,” Siniq-elb said.
“Tair bless us,” Natam said, pulling the leather helmet from his head. His blond braids, heavy with sweat, were plastered against his scalp. “I had the Garden locked and sealed to make sure you’d be safe. What in the Father’s glory are you doing out here? You could get hurt.”
“I could get hurt?” Siniq-elb had trouble keeping his voice steady.
Mece rested a hand on his arm, cool and calming.
“Come on, let’s get you back to the Garden. We control the compound, but we haven’t found any of the leaders of the temple yet—a new tun-esis hasn’t been named, and none of the lap-eses are anywhere we can find them.”
“Well, I can show you to Ayde,” Siniq-elb said, “but I’m afraid she won’t be much help.”
“We can make her talk,” Natam said grimly. “We’ll need her for when the tair stands trial.”
“Trial?” Siniq-elb gaped at the man. “What are you talking about? Make a god stand trial?”
“He will be judged, Siniq-elb. For what he did to you. For what he has done to this city. The seiri were the last straw; Qilic would not stand for any more of it.”
“You told him?”
Natam flushed. “Bahr, take your squad and follow the eses to the camp. Once they’re secured, send Gish and Dyn back with all their squads to start searching the compound. We know where Ayde is.” Bahr gave the order, and his men moved out quickly, leaving Siniq-elb and his friends with Natam and his attendant.
“Ayde is dead,” Siniq-elb said. “Along with the su-esis in charge of the Garden.”
“You killed Khylar?” the attendant said. He stepped forward, removed his helm, and Siniq-elb was surprised to recognize Dakel. With his dark hair hidden under the helmet, and without the green robes of the eses, Siniq-elb had taken him for just another soldier. “And the seiri? What of them?”
“Destroyed.”
“Tair be praised,” Dakel said.
“If Ayde is dead, that will make it more difficult to prove to the people what their god has been doing,” Natam said. “But the records of the High Harvests will be enough. One way or another, the tair will be tried and executed.”
“And what will take his place?” Vas said, stepping forward, his bashfulness suddenly forgotten. “The tair has ruled here for centuries, perhaps millennia. He is a god-made-flesh. What can take the place of that?”
“For now,” Natam said with a shrug, “the army.”
“No, that won’t last,” Vas said. “It cannot last. There must be a government, something people can look to for hope, something people can respect.”
“It will be enough,” Natam said. “There will be time for settling the matter later. For now, you should return to the Garden.”
Siniq-elb glanced at Mece. To his surprise, she gave a small nod. Vas had subsided back into his accustomed silence, and so Siniq-elb grimaced and gave a nod.
“I’ll take them,” Dakel said.
“Then I’ll see you soon,” Natam said. “Take care, Siniq-elb; I’m glad you survived this night.”
He trotted across the compound, intercepting another cluster of soldiers who snapped to attention and saluted him. Siniq-elb watched as Natam issued orders, directing the search for the tair.
“Is it hard to know that could have been you, if I hadn’t found you in the forest?” Dakel said.
“It wouldn’t have been me,” Siniq-elb. “If you hadn’t found me, no one would have believed us about the seiri. No one would have investigated Khylar. No one would have told Qilic, and Qilic would never have moved against the eses. Not with the rebels so close.”
“Perhaps,” Dakel said.
“So you return, with an army, to find your job has already been done,” Mece said, her soft voice laced with acid.
“Yes,” Dakel said. “It was the best plan I could come up with, to bring Qilic here. If the seiri awakened, they would have swept through Khi’ilan like locusts. How did you ever manage to stop them? Did Ayde help you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Siniq-elb said; he would not betray Ilahe’s presence, or her powers. “They’re dead. Again. That’s all that’s important.”
Dakel shifted on his feet for a moment. “W
e should get back to the Garden.”
“And that’s the end of the eses,” Siniq-elb asked as they crossed the temple compound. “You’re going to give up the power you’ve held so long? Let the army rule, and sink into obscurity? Men with the power of gods are just going to walk away?”
“Few of the su-eses survived the wights,” Dakel said. “But those of us who did are agreed; we will have a voice in this new government. Faith in the gods-made-flesh must not die, even if our god has betrayed us.”
“And what if it wasn’t the tair who betrayed you?” Siniq-elb said. “What if it was Khylar, and the tair had no idea?”
Dakel paled, then flushed. “It had to be the tair. Khylar could have never done such a thing on his own.”
“But you don’t know, do you?” Vas said, bursting from his reverie. “That’s the worst part, you’ll never know. Especially not with the sham trial that Natam has planned. And not knowing will be a wound that cleaves your faith until the day you die.”
“Enough,” Dakel said. “That is enough. It was Khylar.”
Siniq-elb gave a shrug. “Don’t you wonder what Natam will do in the trial? Why does he want Ayde so much? Or any of the lap-eses? He’d be better off if all the Renewed were dead. Unless, that is, he was planning something else. Total destruction of the temple. Breaking the eses’ power, once and for all.”
Dakel frowned and chewed his lip, but said nothing. Mece’s hand tightened on Siniq-elb’s arm, a brief squeeze. They walked the rest of the way to the Garden in silence.