He sketched her a bow. “Trine Priest Nabric’s barge approaches, Trine Priestess.” He waved to the other side of the ship. “If you will prepare to disembark, I’ll have a man see to your luggage.”
Pasinae gave him a regal nod, not making eye contact or speaking. She never spoke to one of the seadogs unless she had to. The honor of conversing with one of the Trine did not, in her opinion, belong to the seascum.
She left the captain’s presence to cross the deck, concentrating on moving with the gliding stride all Ontarem’s priests and priestesses used. She leaned against the rail, disguising her eagerness to catch a glimpse of the brother she hadn’t seen for fourteen years—not since she’d left Penutar to journey to Ocean’s Glory with Prince Thaddis securely under Ontarem’s control.
The barge was made of gilded wood with carved side panels. Nabric sat on a throne in the center, while almost naked Stingfish men labored along the sides, leaning on the oars.
A sailor a few feet away from her tossed a rope ladder overboard. A man on the barge caught the bottom and anchored the end to some hooks.
Mentally grumbling about the undignified way she had to exit the ship, Pasinae gathered the skirt of her silk dress and accepted Smartic’s hand to climb over the side. She steadied her feet on the rope rung of the ladder, then carefully worked her way down until she reached the barge
The man at the bottom caught her around the waist and helped her jump down.
The affront. Pasinae sent him a withering glare.
He snatched his hands away as if she’d burned them.
Nabric rose and stepped from the throne. He was dressed in a modified version of their gray robes—the kind she hadn’t worn for years—sleeveless and short like a tunic. A belt of worked silveral circled his waist, his pearl of power set into the middle. He extended his hands to her.
She caught them and squeezed, a rush of emotion pressing against her chest. Nabric looked almost identical to Kokam, and joy for the reunion and sadness for the loss of their brother warred within her. To distract herself from showing any emotion to the watching men, she studied Nabric, searching for the differences between him and Kokam.
Nabric still sported the tiny scar on the corner of his forehead from a fall when they were small before they were taken to live at Ontarem’s temple, and his face was narrower. Although it was difficult to tell without Kokam side-by-side to compare, Nabric’s shoulders looked wider, and he stood perhaps an inch or two taller. But he had the wide-set eyes, high cheekbones, and thick hair all three of the triplets possessed.
“Brother, I greet you in Ontarem’s name.”
Nabric gave a slight incline of his head. “Sister, you are welcomed in the name of Ontarem, our God.” His tone sounded solemn, but facing her, his back to the men, he allowed a familiar teasing expression to cross his face. “A me-re bird has flown to the Triangle Islands.”
She caught her breath on a sob, remembering the day Kokam had said something similar about her red dress. Her sadness must have shown on her face. But now was not the time to tell him about Kokam’s death. Or rather, confirm the death. As soon as their brother’s heart stopped beating, Nabric must have felt Kokam’s absence in the Trine link.
Nabric squeezed her hands. “We’ll talk later,” he said, his voice low. He glanced at the throne and gave her a little bow. “Since you’ll be the Trine of the Triangle Islands, it is only fitting that you take the seat.”
She narrowed her eyes. Was there a touch of sarcasm in his voice?
Her brother handed her up to the throne.
Using a rope net, the sailors hoisted her trunk overboard. Once her luggage was stowed, Nabric made a cast-off motion to the crew.
The barge pulled away from the ship and turned toward land. Pasinae watched the island grow closer, saw people clothed in bright hues including red, moving through the streets. She wondered why Nabric allowed them to wear colors and made a mental note to ban anyone else from wearing her favorite hue.
The closer they drew to land, the heavier the humidity weighed on her. She decided a short tunic like Nabric’s, scarlet of course, might be a good idea.
The barge drifted onto a small sand beach.
Nabric handed her down and helped her off the barge.
On the beach, she took several tottery steps, trying to adjust to firm land. She slanted a glance at Nabric to see if he was laughing, but his face remained impassive. He’s grown up. Before, he never would have passed up an opportunity to tease me. Nor had he been able to school his expression. Uneasy, she wondered what he was thinking.
She trod lightly on the sand to avoid getting the grains in her shoes. But to her annoyance, some granules still filtered inside, irritating her feet and increasing her dissatisfaction with the place.
The beach ended at a road paved with shiny black blocks. Nabric handed her into a canopied sedan chair, then climbed into another situated in front of hers. Discretely, she slipped off her shoes and emptied the sand onto the floor of the vehicle.
The porters hefted the poles of the chair to their shoulders. So smoothly did they lift her that Pasinae barely felt the dip of the chair. The bearers walked in unison up a narrow, crooked street.
Grateful for the shade of the canopy, she leaned back in the seat, watching as they traveled by buildings made of porous lava rock. As they passed, people turned to gawk.
Unlike the citizens of Penutar, these people appeared more mixed race, their skin and hair lighter, with many having green, gray, or blue eyes. The grandchildren of slaves were allowed to move to the free side of the town and formally be admitted into the clans. Those descendants of the captives from Seagem and Ocean’s Glory had diluted the dark skin, hair, and eyes of Ontarem’s people.
The Stingfish clan was dressed various styles, much of it grimy and tattered. Pasinae recognized clothing from Seagem and Ocean’s Glory, stolen from ships or raids, or more recently, the conquest of the SeaGod’s city. The people appeared healthy, not thin like the citizens of Penutar. Not for the first time, she wondered why with all the water surrounding them, the seadogs didn’t like to bathe, nor seem to take pride in their appearance.
The bearers stopped before the largest building in the town, square and blocky like Ontarem’s temple on Penutar, although about a fourth the size.
Nabric descended from his chair first, strode over to her, and handed her out.
Together, they walked up the broad steps to double doors made of smoothly burnished wood.
Two priests, clad in the same short robes as her brother, flanked the entrance. They bowed. One was stocky with a broad face, and the other was thin and hooked nosed.
Nabric stopped briefly to introduce the stocky one as Vaptor and the thin priest as Dorent and then pushed open the doors. They walked inside the temple, their footsteps echoing on the polished black floor.
The room was empty, lacking the pektats for prisoners to lie on. But the statue of Ontarem was what drew her gaze. Unlike in Penutar where the image was made of the finest pale marble, this statue was as black as a starless night, although the God still had a red kilt wrapped around His hips.
Pasinae had to blink to clear her gaze before she could see that the carved features looked familiar. Amazed, she glanced at Nabric.
“I had the same reaction when I first came here. He’s made of obsidian.”
“And He still communicates with you?”
Nabric’s expression turned grim. “I’ve had scant communication with Ontarem for the last weeks. Just that you were coming, and I’m ordered to Penutar.” He turned and gripped her arms. “My power has increased. What has happened to our brother?”
Despite her attempts at control, Pasinae’s eyes filled, as she related the story.
“I knew, I knew,” Nabric murmured, his voice thick with grief. “But I didn’t want to believe. I saw him only last year, when he sailed out to help me set and spring the trap on Yadarius.” He pulled her into a long hug.
Pasinae clung to
her brother, giving herself a few minutes to be soft…vulnerable…weak. The thought of the last word made her straighten away from him. “Kokam is within us. We now share his power, and his presence makes us stronger. Thus he will always be part of the Trine.”
He nodded and shot a glance at the statue before turning his attention back to her. “I don’t have long before the tide changes, and I must be on the ship. But first you need to know sister… Yadarius rattles His cage.”
“So Ontarem has said. Our God’s power is depleted with His war with Arvintor. His vigilance on Yadarius has grown…lax.”
Nabric shook his head. “I can’t believe there are more of Them. That Ontarem wouldn’t warn us about the other Deities.”
“Well, don’t say so to Him,” she said dryly. “He struck me for it.”
Her brother grimaced. “At least living here has given me freedom from His discipline.” He squared his shoulders. “Before, I would have loved to return home…be in His presence every day…be away from these uncouth seadogs. But now….”
Pasinae didn’t respond. Nabric’s words edged close to blasphemy. She could understand the sentiment, but she wasn’t about to admit it. If Ontarem ever probed Nabric’s mind and discovered his feelings, she needed to remain blameless. “We must return Ontarem to His full power,” she said crisply. “That will bolster Him, and He will, in turn, be able to give us energy.” She gave Nabric an ironic smile. “One of the benefits about being Trine.”
“You speak the truth. I have missed being filled with our God.”
“As have I.” She changed the subject. “What do I do about Yadarius?”
He frowned. “The crystals’ power grows weak. I’m afraid they’ll shatter and release the SeaGod. It’s time to replace them. Normally, that task took the strength of both Kokam and me. But now since we have our brother’s power within us, either of us can do the job alone. Since you’ll be controlling the crystal energy, I thought you should chose the replacements that would resonate best with you. I wish I could stay to help. But Ontarem said no delay. Rely on Vaptor and Dorent. They know more about the crystals than anyone else.”
“Nabric, there’s still so much we need to discuss…how to retrieve Prince Indaran and the rest of the slaves. Capture the princess. You’ll have to know about the Che-da-wah rebellion and the God Arvintor.”
He rubbed his forehead, thinking. “Come. You must be famished. Let’s eat. You tell me about everything. Before I leave, we will come up with a plan to return Ontarem to the path He has long planned—to the complete dominance of Kimtair.”
~ ~ ~
Thaddis deserved burning agony with his body wracked as each tortured particle of his being was knit back to wholeness. But instead he received gentle, loving warmth from the Goddess, like the sun on his face on a beautiful spring day after a long, dark winter. His muscles swelled like the growth within seeds, sprouting into new life. Yet even as his body changed, grew young and strong, the black shame and bitter remorse in his heart only intensified, until he screamed with pain.
Cease, Thaddis! The Goddess ordered.
He had to gulp back sobs. “You don’t understand.” He flailed his arm. I just moved my arm! I can move! He opened his eyes, and then had to blink gritty eyelids several times, adjusting to the soft light glowing from panels set into the alabaster stone walls. He pushed himself to a sitting position and glanced around to see the priests and priestesses had left. Although the room had no visible statue of the Goddess, he still sensed Her presence.
His head swam, and Thaddis had to hold perfectly still, impatiently waiting for the room to stop spinning. Once his balance righted, he extended his sword arm. In his last memory before his awakening, he’d been dressed in his black uniform. But someone had changed his clothes, and he wore a loose white shirt of coarse cotton weave and brown trews—the dress of a peasant. His garments were stained with the dirt of the desert. However, his plebian clothing wasn’t what caught his attention. He pushed up the sleeve of his shirt and flexed his arm, feeling the muscles move.
Thaddis examined his skin more closely. The scar he’d carried above his elbow since he was ten, when he and Indaran had sparred with real swords, had vanished, and he felt a stab of grief for its loss.
It isn’t a scar you grieve for, Thaddis.
“I know. I betrayed his memory. My best friend and foster brother, my comrade-in-arms, my country’s ancient trusted ally. I murdered his family, tried to kidnap his sister, destroyed his city, and enslaved his people.”
You were also enslaved. The Evil One controlled you for His own purposes.
“That doesn’t excuse anything. I should have fought harder. Escaped somehow,” he said his tone bitter. “I should have killed myself, rather than let myself be used.”
Thaddis, Guinheld’s voice held a gentle note. You tried. When I healed you, I saw that deep within you, you never stopped struggling against Ontarem.
“It doesn’t matter. I didn’t succeed.”
Ah, but your struggle is what matters now.
“Why didn’t you just let me die?”
Princess Daria believes her brother is alive. She has had a vision that he lies in Ontarem’s temple. She and her new husband Khan have sailed to rescue him.
Indaran’s alive! At the news, his hope soared so high Thaddis barely noticed that the princess he’d pursued, caused a war to try and capture, was now with another man. “Is it really possible that Indaran’s alive?” Even as he spoke the words, Thaddis had a fuzzy memory of Indaran’s body lying on an altar in Ontarem’s temple. Was his friend alive or dead?
It’s possible. Or the princess and her consort may be sailing into a trap. If that is so, the consequences will be dire. Neither Withea nor I have the power to see into Ontarem’s realm. But through Khan and Daria, who serve as Withea’s priest and priestess, perhaps my sister Goddess may be able to penetrate into Ontarem’s territory.
The possibility had him jumping to his feet and pacing the chamber. “But Indaran might be alive. I need to help free him.”
I think you tried that once before and look what happened. Ontarem enslaved your mind. The Goddess’s tone was not unkind, but the truth of the statement hit him nevertheless.
Thaddis took a seat on the slab. He set his elbows on his knees and lowered his face to his hands.
Your place is here, Thaddis. At least for now. Your test lies before you. If you emerge from it, you’ll be free to fight against Ontarem. But first, you must emerge. Else you’ll be returned from whence you came.
CHAPTER FIVE
Pasinae began her first day in exile by standing on the black rock balcony of her suite, watching the sun rise over the ocean. The breeze blew over her, bringing the fresh scent of the sea and the fragrance of the spiky blue flowers growing in the ground below. The wind pressed her sleeping robe against her body and whipped tendrils of hair that had escaped her braid across her face. Some strands tangled in the pearl of power she wore in a circlet on her head, the gem gleaming in the center of her brow.
Her home was situated just below Ontarem’s temple but still perched over the rest of the town. The mountain loomed above the temple, the steep sides ripe with jungle growth too thick and dangerous to walk anywhere but on the stone-lined trails.
She wrinkled her nose at the purple-shelled seasnail sliding along the top of the railing. The annoying little creatures were all over the place. With a flick of her fingers, she sent seasnail tumbling over the edge and moved to a spot where she wouldn’t accidently touch the slime trail left behind.
Below her, the town stirred to life. But her mind was too preoccupied to pay attention to the goings on of islanders she didn’t care about. Instead, she inventoried the tasks that lay ahead of her, beginning with checking on the strength of the prison containing Yadarius, SeaGod. After a visit to observe Him, she needed to choose new crystals and have the villagers haul each one up to the tip of the mountains and set them in place—an arduous job, and one she dreaded.
As she stood on the balcony, Pasinae could feel the strength of the SeaGod as he battled to free Himself. His efforts sucked at Ontarem’s energy. Even in her sleep last night, the struggles, magnified by the crystals that pulsed around the island, pulled at her. The fight hadn’t made for a restful night.
“Trine Priestess,” a voice behind her quavered. “I’ve brought your breakfast. Where would you like me to serve you?”
Pasinae recognized the voice as belonging to the girl assigned as her maid. She turned and looked at the young woman, who possessed a delicate beauty. She must have had Seagem blood in her, or maybe Ocean’s Glory, for auburn streaked her dark hair and her eyes were a blue-brown color, although they looked red and puffy as if she’d been crying. Probably one of my brother’s lovers. “Leave the food on the table in the main room. And do something about these snails. I saw some in my rooms and in the temples. Get rid of them and scrub away those slime trails.”
The girl looked shocked and stepped back. “But Trine Priestess, the seasnails are a blessing. To harm them would anger the mother seasnail Qwetaret. A soft expression crossed her face. “And they are a symbol of fertility. I wouldn’t dare remove them.”
Pasinae narrowed her eyes at the girl. “You dare to contradict me?” she said in a cold voice.
Fear leaped into the girl’s eyes. She jerked a short bow. “It will be done as you say, Trine Priestess.”
Good. Pasinae turned back to contemplating the view. She touched the pearl on her forehead and sent her awareness across the sea to Ontarem. Though their connection had compacted to a thread instead of the once-robust channel, she could still tell Ontarem focused His attention on His enemy, Arvintor. This far away, Pasinae felt safe in allowing herself to feel the resentment simmering in her chest from the God’s neglect.
She missed their previous connection—the special attention she’d received from Him.
Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) Page 5