Prophet (Books of the Infinite Book #1)

by R. J. Larson

  “Thank you. But He is also your Creator, so you mustn’t refer to Him as if He’s mine alone.” Ela halted in the gloomy passageway. Tsir Aun stopped willingly. Ela suspected he wanted to talk. She eyed a new gold emblem on his cloak, brilliant even in this murky light. “You’ve received another promotion, haven’t you?”

  Tsir Aun sighed, betraying his troubled soul. “Yes. And I mistrust it. I suspect it’s a bribe, meant to cover the heir’s crime. He fell down the tower steps while trying to avoid capture after he and his men attempted to pick off you and the former ambassador, Lantec. When we realized the prince was crippled, I carried him to the king.”

  Almost grumbling, the soldier continued. “The next thing I knew, King Tek An was praising my abilities and ordering my promotion to a crown commander. I now report to the king personally. Daily. No doubt to monitor my behavior.”

  “You’ll be perfectly safe if you prove yourself worthy—as the Infinite intends.”

  “What do you mean?” Tsir Aun studied Ela in the dim light.

  “Have you ever heard of another soldier being raised through the ranks so quickly?”

  “No. This is why I mistrust my situation, and myself.”

  “Tsir Aun, don’t you remember the day you brought me here? I told you that the Infinite asks you to seek His will and be worthy of your future. This promotion is what I spoke of. And it’s only the beginning. If you remain honorable. And humble.”

  “Why me? I’m an ordinary citizen. The most I’d ever hoped for was to become a high commander following years of service. But suddenly I’m this.” He flicked at the gold emblem, clearly baffled. “I haven’t done anything to merit such a tribute.”

  “A perfect example of your humility.” Ela waited for the proper words, then said, “The Infinite blesses whomever He pleases. It pleases Him to bless you with this honor. But why listen to me? Seek His will yourself. Pray to Him.”

  The crown commander hesitated. When he finally answered, his voice conveyed unease. “That would be a rebellion against everything I’ve been taught. My kinsmen would be appalled.” Abruptly, he motioned Ela along the gloomy passage. “Come. The king waits.”

  Guards also waited, surrounding Kien in the public yard.

  Despite his awful black eye—so dark that Ela turned sick with guilt—Kien looked cheerful. Particularly when he saw her. “I know what I did to deserve being summoned for a reprimand, but what did you do, Ela?”

  “Oh, everything despicable. I thwarted a murderer this morning and insulted the king’s sister this afternoon. The king’s had an earful of complaints. Worse, I’ll be severely scolded tonight for adding extra meat and vegetables to the stew. Imagine having enough to eat.”

  “Tonight’s stew?” He seemed genuinely dismayed. “Will we miss the evening meal?”

  “You’ll receive your share,” Ela told him. “Aren’t you interested in the murderer? Or that I’ve insulted the king’s sister?”

  Obviously remembering Tek Sia, Kien grimaced. “She deserves to be insulted. As for the murderer—I’m sure you dealt with him.” He touched his black eye. “You were warned beforehand, weren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Ela decided to ignore his affable taunt. “You’re enjoying this mightily.”

  “What else can I do? What’s wrong with you? I’m disappointed by your lack of awareness. Didn’t you know I’d be happy today? Or that I wouldn’t be concerned about the murderer, whom you’ve obviously escaped?”

  Her headache was returning. “I don’t know everything.”

  “At least tell me why we’re waiting here. You do know that, don’t you?”

  “Pet is coming. And stop teasing or I’ll command him to sit on you.”

  “Forgive me. The thought of eating real food tonight has made me giddy.”

  Pet rounded the gate with two handlers guiding him—or attempting to guide him.

  Ela recognized her former guards, Tal and Osko. With a pang, she remembered their dead comrade, Ket, slaughtered in the heir’s first attempt on her life. Memories of the antagonistic Ket led to thoughts of his uncle, Judge Ket Behl. Ela hastily pushed aside her worries over the judge.

  She concentrated on this evening’s fears.

  Ignoring Tal and Osko’s attempts to restrain him, Pet stalked across the yard and snapped at Kien. Ela pushed the branch at her destroyer. “No! He’s not an enemy unless I say he is.”

  Pet grumbled. Ela caught him giving Kien a sidelong ear-flattened glare that implied future bruises.

  Kien returned the destroyer’s glare, without the ear-flattening, and without retreating. “What did I do to offend him?”

  “I don’t know,” Ela said innocently. “You never mock me.”

  “Where’s your sense of humor?” Kien asked Pet.

  Pet stomped. One of the guards, Osko, finally lost patience. “We’ve orders to leave at once. Step up!”

  Obedient, Ela stepped into the guard’s linked hands. He pitched her onto the destroyer’s back so roughly that all her bruises were jarred. She gasped, hurt. And her headache intensified with the jolt.

  Pet retaliated, nipping Osko’s shoulder, making him curse.

  Ela gripped her destroyer’s war harness and scolded, “No! I understand you’re upset, but you can’t bite everyone. You must behave.”

  Timeless irony prodded Ela’s conscience and made her cringe. Like prophet, like destroyer. “You’re right,” Ela told the Infinite, dizzied by the effort of trying to sit up straight. “Please, forgive me.”

  She sensed pardon instantly. Encouraged, Ela wondered to her Creator if sarcasm was allowed in certain situations.

  It evidently pleased Him to allow her to wait. Giving up, Ela prayed.

  She was talking to herself. Or to her Infinite, but the effect was the same. Even so, Kien admired Ela’s fortitude. Besides, hadn’t he been talking to himself recently—though with fewer delusions?

  At least Ela held sincere delusions. However, all delusions were sincere to the deluded.

  “Tracelander.” One of the destroyer’s handlers stood beside Kien now. Not the oaf the destroyer had just bitten, but a younger, obviously tired soldier. “You will walk beside me. Not behind the destroyer.”

  “Of course. I had no intention of allowing that natural disaster the chance to kick me.”

  “Wise,” the soldier muttered.

  The destroyer swung its huge head around and stared at Kien as if perceiving his “natural disaster” comment. Kien returned the massive beast’s gaze with outward calm, but his heart thumped. Hard. Were all destroyers so intuitive? This creature looked as if he’d just read Kien’s mind and was plotting retribution.

  He could not allow this mountain of horsemeat to intimidate him. Determined to prove himself a worthy opponent, Kien lifted his chin at the destroyer. “I’ll behave if you do.”

  The destroyer snorted and turned its head, as if deciding to ignore a gnat.

  “Good bluff,” the soldier said, eyes forward, attention seemingly fixed on Tsir Aun.

  “Thank you.” Kien mimicked the man’s stance, prepared to march to the palace.

  As they passed through the prison’s gate, Kien glanced up at Ela. She leaned forward, gripping a handle on the beast’s huge collar, while she clutched her staff tight against her cheek. Her face went clay-like, her lips paled, and she shut her eyes.

  The destroyer altered his pace, moving cautiously, as if balancing something fragile.

  Was she about to faint? Kien measured his steps to the destroyer’s and kept watch, hoping to break Ela’s potential fall.

  She wouldn’t scream, though she longed to. This new vision was as horrible as the massacre at Ytar. At least she hadn’t fainted.

  “Infinite,” Ela begged, eyes wide open now, “is there no hope?”

  Until the last instant.

  Between her vision’s impact and the effects from her earlier injuries, Ela knew that if she shut her eyes to pray again, she would topple off Pet’s back and creat
e a scene. Instead, she told herself to be calm. Breathe.

  Looking ahead at the street, the towers, temples, and dignified homes of Riyan, Ela prayed. A breeze glided past her face, drying tears she hadn’t realized she’d cried. The vision resurfaced, provoking more tears. And sobs, which she fought to muffle. Not behavior suited to the Infinite’s prophet. Why couldn’t she be dignified?

  Walking alongside Pet, Kien motioned to her, clearly concerned. “Are you ill? Should we ask to return to the prison?”

  Ela sniffled and looked away. “No. Thank you. I’m better.”

  Evidently unaware of Ela’s distress, Tsir Aun led their procession through the city’s streets. The palace gates opened before him swiftly, and he halted his men and prisoners in the courtyard. A green-cloaked wall of palace guards waited inside the courtyard, glittering spears readied.

  An official garbed in stark white robes and a gold insignia stepped forward, his mouth tensed like a man being forced to eat filth. He glared up at Ela. “You will wait here.”

  Tsir Aun motioned his men back, leaving Ela, Kien, and the destroyer under the watchful scowls of the green-cloaks.

  Courtiers were filing from the palace now, all of them wearing white robes without their usual finery except the gold emblems marking their ranks. Ela wondered at their robes until she saw Tek Lara descend the palace steps. Lara was swathed in stark white garments, her hair covered by a hooded white cloak instead of her veil.

  Mourning, Ela realized. They were mourning Lara’s father. New tears threatened. Ela rubbed her face and waited. Pet shifted beneath her. Partially concealed by the edge of her hood, Lara gave Ela a sad but subtly encouraging smile.

  Ela wished for Lara’s composure.

  The king finally appeared, majestic in white and gold, accompanied by the queen and his sister. The queen was impassive. Tek Sia, however, gave Ela such a killing look that Ela feared Pet might charge the noblewoman.

  When Ela met the king’s gaze, the Infinite allowed her to hear Tek An’s thoughts as if he’d spoken aloud. The tyrant’s contempt was so evident that Ela almost forgot her vision. Good. Anger would allow her to confront the king without crying. “Thank you, Infinite.”

  Tek An motioned Ela to dismount.

  Ela guided Pet toward the fountain. A central geyser spilled water from an elegant raised bowl into a huge, round main pool. The fountain’s classic design was offset by a tarnished statue of King Tek An, majestically posed atop an ornate, oddly stairstepped wall enclosing the back of the fountain. No doubt the king had ordered the elaborate, awkward wall and grandiose statue to be added to the fountain’s original plan to please his own vanity.

  Ela dismounted on one of the ornate stone ledges. Balancing herself with the branch—and praying she wouldn’t fall ingloriously into the pool—she descended to the lowest stone seat that curved around most of the fountain. Then she hugged Pet in a temporary farewell. “No biting or kicking anyone.”

  Pet grunted and clattered in a restless circle near the pool while Kien lingered beside the pool’s low wall, both of them unmistakably guarding Ela. Perfect. She stepped down to the courtyard’s stone pavings and waited.

  Tek An approached, his white and gold robes gleaming in the sunlight, at odds with his rage-flushed face. He looked nothing like his statue. “You told a leprous beggar to wash himself in our fountain!”

  “He was no beggar!” Ela retorted. “This morning, he was sent to arrange my death, on orders from his master, and you know his master’s identity!”

  The king’s crimson face purpled. “Insolent girl! You will clean our fountain! That beggar left his disease in our water!”

  Ela raised her voice, making certain all the hovering courtiers heard. “As I live, O King—and I do!—the Infinite cured my would-be assassin in this fountain and removed every trace of the disease. This water is pure.”

  As if to support Ela’s claim, Pet bent toward the pool, nosed the water’s surface into a sparkling tempest, then began to drink. Loudly.

  Tek An glowered at the destroyer, then at Ela. “We say our water is tainted! Clean this pool. Now.”

  Ela surveyed the fountain’s shining water, its rust-tinged stones, the time-darkened stonework, and hints of underwater mosses flecking the pool’s basin. “Who will judge when the fountain is clean?”

  “We are the judge.” The king squared his shoulders.

  “As I am,” a proud feminine voice added. Tek Sia stepped forward to join her brother. He didn’t argue. Indeed, he smiled furtively, as if he’d guessed his sister’s intentions.

  “You will judge honorably, of course,” Ela said. “Though I must warn you that your Creator is judging you both.”

  “You talk only to delay work.” Tek An signaled to a handful of servants, who were armed with pails, scouring stones, and cleansing powders. Obviously the royal siblings expected Ela to spend days toiling here.

  How little they knew.

  Remembering that morning’s vision, Ela gripped the branch to balance herself, then prayed at the top of her lungs. “Infinite, Creator of kings, You formed these stones at the beginning of time. All water is Yours, as are all the lives dependent upon Your presence. You alone are able to truly cleanse this fountain. Show these foolish, stubborn people Your will!”

  She dipped the branch in the fountain’s moss-tinged basin. Light radiated from the slender vinewood staff and flashed through the pool—so intense that Ela had to look away.

  The king and his sister retreated, covering their eyes. Pet skittered backward.

  Within a breath, the light subsided, leaving the fountain undeniably perfect inside and out. Gold veins and delicate crystals glimmered through the white stones. Every crevice was pristine, free of moss, leaves, debris. Not a hint of grime remained anywhere.

  Except on Tek An’s tarnished statue.

  Even when the fountain was first carved by Riyan’s royal stoneworkers, Ela knew it had not been so spotless and gemlike. The king stared, openmouthed.

  “You are the chief judge.” Ela lifted the branch from the water. “Is the fountain clean?”

  He nodded, mute. Beside him, Tek Sia puffed out a breath and shook her head. “I say it is not. You were supposed to clean this fountain!”

  “Do you argue with the Infinite’s will, lady?”

  Tek Sia bridled. “It’s an illusion. The fountain’s filthy, and you’ve escaped your work.”

  Proud, headstrong, idiotic noblewoman! Ela clicked the branch against the pavings directly in front of Tek Sia. “Be careful, and be truthful. Your Creator is judging your reply. He has cleansed this fountain. Do you say the muck remains?”

  “Of course it does! You’re nothing but a witch.”

  “The Infinite disagrees. And to prove the filth has been removed from this fountain, your Creator gives it to you.”

  Moss and decaying leaves coated Tek Sia’s robes. Rust tinged and stiffened her meticulously coiffed hair. And pungent grime encrusted her skin like baked mud. Tek Sia sucked in a horrified breath. Before she uttered a sound, Ela warned, “If you say one more word against me, or the Infinite, He will also give you the rotting leprosy cleansed from my intended murderer this morning. Go home, scrub yourself, and pray to the Infinite for your soul.”

  Tek Sia burst into tears and fled. The crowds of courtiers in her path parted, shrieking, obviously afraid the king’s sister might taint them with her touch.

  Ela faced the swaying, sweat-beaded Tek An. “As I rode here, I saw your death, O King.” Tears brimmed in her eyes as she recalled the image. “Why couldn’t you listen to me?”

  Tek An fell, unconscious.

  14

  Palace guards rushed toward Ela to strike her down, she knew. Before they were within arm’s length, Pet charged the guards, scattering them like craven green-winged birds. Huffing threats, the destroyer shielded Ela from her potential attackers.

  Curses and quarreling arose from the frustrated, now unseen guards. Ela prayed for Pet’s safety,
reminding herself that destroyers were revered in Istgard. And in her visions, she hadn’t seen Pet being slaughtered by fanatical soldiers.

  Walled from Ela’s view, the queen sobbed while courtiers buzzed, sounding like bees from a distressed hive.

  Someone touched Ela’s shoulder. Kien. “We could escape. The gate’s open.”

  “It’s not the Infinite’s will, and I won’t leave without my sister. Besides, think of the scandal.”

  “True.” Kien’s mouth twitched as if he’d suppressed a grin, and he took a deliberate step away. Just as Ela considered pushing him into the fountain, he sobered. “Is the king dead?”

  “No. He’s about to open his eyes, protest that his statue remained tarnished, and he will demand my presence. He believes the tarnish is an omen of his death, which is partly true.”

  “So you’ll wait?”

  “Yes.” Ela soothed Pet now, rubbing his neck and shoulders. Like Kien, the destroyer seemed to think escape was Ela’s best option. Pet signified his wishes by repeatedly nodding toward the gate. Ela continued to smooth his glossy coat. “Patience. Everything will be fine. For now.”

  An unseen chorus of ohs and sighs of relief lifted throughout the courtyard at what she assumed to be the king’s awakening. Soon Tek An’s voice complained, “Our statue is blighted! Should we accept this insult? Where is the Parnian?”

  “I’m summoned,” Ela murmured to Kien. She eased Pet’s nervousness by scratching his gleaming, twitching neck muscles as she stepped around him to face the king.

  Tek An now resembled his statue. Blighted. His complexion mottled where it wasn’t fear-blanched. He snarled. “Why was our likeness insulted?”

  “You know the answer. But why should I say anything if you won’t heed my words?”

  “Correct your work!”

  “The Infinite declares that statue reflects its subject. The day is coming when this same likeness will shatter into a thousand pieces—unless you change your ways, O King.”

  “Your Infinite is wrong!” Tek An gestured furiously to his servants, who scrambled to help him stand. Fortifying his lost dignity with wrath, the king yelled to his guards, “Bring her and that Lan Tek inside!”