The Changing of the Sun

by Lesley Smith

  “How can I be of service, Mother?”

  “You were at the Parliament?”

  “I was,” Vashi said. “I heard and saw. I wish I hadn’t.”

  “We can’t undo the past, but we can work to change the future,” Eirian said. “Come and walk with me a moment. Outside. I don’t want the others hearing, and Tommen will let us out for a short while.”

  The gardens smelled of warm herbs. Eirian moved more comfortably in the darkness than Vashi did, and it felt strange to entrust her safety to a blind woman.

  “I fear for Saiara,” Eirian said. “This time of transition will be hard for her. If she succeeds Jashri, then I will mentor her. I need to atone for my mistakes, and I don’t think Jashri would tutor her.”

  “Yes,’ Vashi answered. “But I don’t believe my mistress intends to pass the mantle.”

  “Neither do I,” Eirian said. “And this is a problem.”

  “Mother, do you know how many oracles we’ve lost since Jashri came to power?”

  “Ten killed themselves, three died of sickness, and one of circumstances I hate to contemplate. Iasei will be the first to pass of old age since her own predecessor.”

  Vashi shuddered. “I still have nightmares, Mother, of finding Istari in the baths, of Peri cold in her pallet, the vial of poison still in her hand. If there was one thing I wish I could unsee, it was Dany after her body was found in the river.”

  “You shouldn’t have had to see that.” Eirian’s voice was sad. “I would rather Saiara not hear of any of this. I’m glad Shaari arrived after as well.”

  “I understand.”

  “Vashi, we must keep her safe. Whatever Jashri might think, I believe she is the next in Kaiene’s line, and we must keep her from the despair that comes with our predicament. She is going to need a friend, a confidante.”

  “Me?”

  “You’re not of the sisterhood,” Eirian said. “And I think you understand her pain and sorrow more than Shaari or myself.”

  Vashi understood. “You mean because I was supposed to live a different life.”

  “And yet you were duty-bound.”

  “Mother, do you know why Jashri picked me?”

  “In all honesty, no,” Eirian replied. “I assumed she simply wished for a female companion. Jashri has never been good with men.”

  “I assumed they must have called her ‘the Misandrist’ for a reason,” Vashi agreed, referring to the unofficial moniker that was used outside of the High Oracle’s hearing: Jashri the Man-Hater.

  Eirian didn’t correct her or even raise the issue. “She was violated before she came to us. It scarred her as you might expect it to. But that’s all I know. Though I only know part of her tale, someone else might know the rest. The old Codexmaster, for example, or maybe your mother. Her friend, Taras, was the one who found her.”

  “The Feium Asun’s Clanfather?” she asked. “Kadi’s father? I didn’t know that.”

  “He never speaks of it; he lost his first son the day she was found. He believes his son gave his life so that the Voice of Aia might live.”

  “Kadian’s not dead,” Vashi said, puzzled, thinking of the boy she should have called beloved. Her mother and Kadian’s fathers—Taras and Garrin—had been plotting their betrothal, to seal the union between their clans when Jashri had asked Vashi to become her handmaid. She had seen him the previous New Year and had been excited about his coming to Aiaea to take up his apprenticeship in a calligrapher’s studio. He wasn’t dead, word would have reached her if something had befallen him.

  “Not Kadian,” Eirian said. “They had a son before him. His name was Ishran.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Few do. It nearly broke Taras,” Eirian said. “If you truly wish to learn why, Vashi, remember that knowledge sometimes brings its own pain. There is always a cost, and sometimes it can be higher than you might want to pay.”

  She considered Erian’s words. “I might speak with Old Beren in the library then.”

  Eirian replied, “Wait a little, until this mess is sorted. You must remember to ask the right questions, though. Beren is as bound by his oaths as the rest of us.”

  “Have you heard from my mother?”

  “She tried to visit, bringing your sister with her. Darus refused her entry.”

  “I saw them, across the courtyard.”

  “And yet you won’t break your oath?” Eirian knew Vashi too well. “There are few as loyal as you, Vashi-child.”

  “You speak as if that was a good thing,” she said “I wish I could say I’d not been tempted. Kadian is living in the city now. His apprenticeship started last season, and I find myself looking forward to our stolen moments. He asked me if I wanted to sneak off to Mother Danae’s.”

  “You’re not bound to celibacy, Vashi. If you are given a free day when Jashri’s mood is positive, it is up to you to spend it as you wish.”

  “I don’t think Her Grace would approve.”

  “Then don’t tell her. We both know you keep secrets; for me, for the others, and for Jashri. She cannot read minds, and you don’t have to lie to her. Your mind, your dreams, they are your sanctuary and you know the ways out, just as any priestess does.”

  “I ache when we’re apart. It's a void in my soul.”

  Eirian understood. “I remember that feeling, Khannam and I were as close before he passed over the River.”

  “I dream of a life unspent, of the role I should have played,” she said. “The children we would have had…a little tent in Jhritian…a baelish of our own and the stars above the Grasslands.”

  “If I could grant you your freedom, I would, but we are both trapped here, out of love and duty,” Eirian said to her. “Don’t lose hope, child, cling on to it, and Aia willing, everything will turn out all right.”

  “Then perhaps I should meet Saiara?”

  “Indeed. The night is coming in and the last thing we need is Jashri’s handmaid catching a chill.” Eirian turned. “Be strong, Vashi, promise me that. I think Saiara will need your strength in the seasons to come. I think we all will.”

  “As you ask, Mother,” she said, and for a moment, she wished it was Eirian that held her future in her hands, and not Jashri.

  Inside the tower, surrounded by rock lit by baelish fat candles the size of her fist, Vashi could almost feel the sense of despair. Geetha and Keiue had already gone to their separate pallets and she realised how hard it must be for them. Their desire for each other was well known, but Jashri had made it clear that if they slept together, even once, there would be consequences. Death would be preferable to the threat of a vision, and Jashri had promised them that if they ever defied her.

  Vashi knew the oracles still had visions; Aia whispered, and nothing could stop them hearing. Thankful for being taught to write as part of her training, she had sat and recorded dozens of them, smuggling them out to Beren who would see them recorded properly in The Codex of the River. He might not be the companion, but everyone knew he had once held the title, and that one of his relatives held the secret scrolls and books of recorded prophecy.

  If Jashri ever found out it would cost Vashi her life, but it would be worth it, worth the duplicity for the sake of the lives it would save.

  Eirian spoke. “Saiara?”

  The new girl looked up. Her hair had been washed and braided, and she was wearing palletclothes, a long white gown which covered her ieshiya and was embroidered with flowers. She was still pale and had rings around her eyes, but she looked better than she had in the Parliament.

  “Mother?” The wariness was still there, a cautiousness that would take time to disappear.

  “I want to introduce you to someone. This is Sarivashi.”

  “Hello, Your Grace. It’s an honour to meet you,” Vashi said, trying to project her warmth through her voice.

  Eirian continued, choosing her words with care. “Officially, she is Jashri’s handmaid. However, she is beloved of the sisterhood. If you need anything
, she will get it for you. Jashri allows her to walk in the city, to run errands for us, and I trust her as if she were my own daughter. You need not fear Jashri will hear your secrets. Vashi is the epitome of confidentiality.”

  “I can read and write, and I often get things for the sisterhood,” Vashi said gently, sensing the new oracle’s nervousness. “I swear on the name of the Disembodied Goddess herself that I will never speak of anything you tell me in front of Jashri or anyone else. I will do as I am asked, provided it does not endanger my life or my position as Jashri’s handmaiden.”

  The oath reassured the girl. No one ever made such serious promises lightly. Saiara was relieved by Eirian’s introduction.

  Shaari added in her own reference. “Vashi has been kind to us. She could have gotten in a lot of trouble, smuggling things in over the years. We are blessed to have her; she’s a light in the darkness.”

  “You’re too kind, Shaari,” Vashi said.

  “Credit where it’s due,” The Fenoi girl replied.

  “All right, Vashi,” Saiara said softly.

  “I was hoping to be allowed leave to go into the city in a few days, though I think my mistress is trying to keep me close until the Edoi leave. If she does grant me permission I will come by first, so if there’s anything you need, Saiara, ask or leave word with Mother Eirian. I will try to get what I can.”

  “I have no money,” the girl said.

  Eirian reassured her. “Don’t worry about that, we have a small stipend for things we need. If your request is sensible—and I’m sure it will be—we will see things procured.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Then if that’s all,” Vashi said, “My pallet calls. Good night, Mother, Your Graces.”

  With that, Vashi left the oracles to their own beds and began her long climb up to the top of the tower and the warmth of her pallet.

  Saiara woke with the dawn. She felt restored and her natural curiosity got the better of her. If this tower was to be her new home, then she had to learn as much about it as she could. It reminded her of her first days within the temple cloisters, the alienness of rows of identical corridors. She had once despaired at ever navigating them correctly, but now she knew her way as if by instinct.

  She still remembered a desperate search for the central courtyard which led to the gardens. Lessons had been scheduled outside, and she become overwhelmed by lines of narrow corridors with identical panes of coloured glass. She was nearly a half hour late to her lessons, and flustered.

  It was only as she learned the layout of the Temple that she realised each area had its own cues, panes of coloured glass, decorative flooring, or motifs etched into the ceilings that told more than a casual glance ever could. The same would be true of the tower, only she would need to learn it without looking, by touch and smell, by the taste of the air, and the sounds drifting in from outside.

  She awoke feeling the warmth of Thaeos’ light on her face. The pallets had been laid out purposefully, so that dawn would wake even the ones like Jashri with no vision. Through the blur, Saia realised she had a tiny amount of sight, and it could still be valuable.

  Cautiously, one step at a time, she unlatched the closed cell door and stepped into the hall, carefully moving up the stone steps that spiraled to the next floor. Darkness beckoned her towards the baths, and light signalled the main living space with its large, ornamental windows.

  Silence reigned, broken only by the singing of the dennabirds and the noise of the waterfall. She could almost hear the snoring of her sisters, though the lack of numbers worried her. She had been sure the sisterhood of oracles was larger, she had felt the numbered cell doors and there were at least twelve, yet the oracles, excluding Jashri, numbered less than half that.

  Do not think of it, child. Aia whispered gently. It will cause you more pain than you need. For now, you live, you breathe, and that is the most important thing.

  In the space of a day Saiara discovered the oracles’ living area was essentially a gilded prison. Servants brought food and water, and there was plenty to occupy their tortured minds, from making pots on a wheel to playing the sheui, the sad, stringed instrument that Shaari told her was native to her home city of Fenoi.

  Most of the servants, bar the sadistic Hsia, were kind enough. Vashi in particular had a reputation for compassion, and often went out of her way to get the seeresses some luxury they might otherwise be denied. For the elderly this might be an herb to ease their aches and pains or a particular tome for the library while the younger oracles requested easier things: extra pillow bread or fresh paper and new styluses. Some just wanted a friend and Vashi quickly became that for Saiara.

  After stumbling, and being glad no one was there to see, Saiara found her preferred seat on the largest window. The shelf was big enough for her to sit safely with her back against the wall. She could feel the breeze and hear the calls of the merchants and traders in the market because this window faced the city and not the falls. As she dozed in the warmth, feeling Thaeos’ heat caressing her skin, Saiara would dream she could leave her body and soar across the city like a dennabird, borrowing the creature’s vision as she swooped in the warm morning air.

  Eirian woke her. “Saiara-child, it’s dangerous to sleep there. You might fall and die still sleeping.”

  “I’m sorry, Mother.” She breathed in deep and then stretched her cramped muscles. “But it reminds me of the city.”

  “You’re not the first to say that,” Eirian sat. “But what if you fell or injured yourself?”

  She shrugged. “Do I matter? Would Jashri care, or would she celebrate my passing?”

  “You might not think you do, but yes, of course you matter. I would grieve, as would Shaari and Caspa.”

  Eirian guided her away from the window sill. Many years later, long after Eirian had left this shore, Vashi would finally explain that it was not uncommon for seers to try and take their own lives. Three had done so since she had been bonded to Jashri’s service, and jumping from that particular window was a favoured method, as was eating a mix of the soporific herb Uryen’s Mercy and a poison. The revelation made Saiara feel sick to the pit of stomach and she wondered if Eirian thought she truly intended to kill herself those first few mornings.

  “I wouldn’t, you know.” Even as a new oracle, she could understand why. A prison, even a gilded one, is still a prison, and despair will drive even the sanest soul to do terrible things that they might otherwise regret. “I will try to see the light in the darkness.”

  “A good attitude to have,” Eirian said. “Now, it is tradition for the descending oracle to teach her successor, but Jashri is of a set mind, so I am going to do what I have done with the others. You need to learn new skills if you want to survive this, Saiara.”

  “New skills?”

  “I teach every sister who comes to us to walk with a staff. I have one for you. An artisan makes them for us so we might have some independence,” Eirian said. “You have a priestess’ training which means you know a lot more than many did when they first came here. But unlike the others, you passed the Test, so I’m going to teach you as Iasei taught me and as I taught Jashri.”

  “Teach me?”

  “To be High Oracle, to lead,” she hesitated. “I would get you a forest kitten but that would not be a kindness if things are going to go the way you’ve seen them.”

  “A kitten?” Saiara couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice.

  “Fiara gave one to Kaiene on the day she ceded her throne to the first in our line. Forest cats are fierce, but they can also teach compassion and the other traits needed in a leader. If you treat them kindly they will be loyal and love you, but step wrongly and learn that cats come with claws and they know how to use them.”

  “I understand the lesson,” Saiara said. “Though I would rather have the cat.”

  Eirian laughed softly. “I felt the same way when Iasei brought me Viia. Leadership can be lonely, and she was a good friend to me. Now, fir
st I will teach you to walk with me. Put your dominant hand on my shoulder and walk a step behind me, let me guide you.”

  “As you ask, Mother.”

  Saiara was left handed and so she stood on Eirian’s right. They moved with a grace she hadn’t thought possible, Eirian’s staff moving against the floor in front of her. She moved with familiarity, but also a with a confidence Saiara hadn’t expected the blind to have.

  The guardians had changed shifts and the Oracles’ Tower had more than one entrance. The complex had its secrets, even Saiara knew this, from watching yearning neophytes disappear into the tavern district.

  As they walked, the knowledge that she was safe allowed Saiara to focus on what was around her. She could smell warm, wet grass and fresh flowers. The temple kept well stocked herb gardens as well as hives of shamir which meant there were always diaphanous creatures buzzing around.

  As a neophyte, Saiara had spent as much time in the gardens as possible, walking around or just sitting under one of the great sacred trees seeded from a sapling brought from the Forest of the Lightflies. Her mental map was strong and she knew where they were as soon as the sound of their footsteps changed.

  “You move like a cat,” Saiara said.

  “You learn to step quietly in the Tower. It didn’t used to be like this.” Eirian suddenly sounded weary. “Once this was a place of learning and knowledge. There was joy; and Aia spoke to us. We guided the cities, tribes and clans. Now is more a library. We must be as quiet as sand mice or Jashri will have Darus take the necessities we need to stay sane. A library stripped of scrolls and codices is just a room.”

  “The Aian Order would end…”

  “Just the Sisterhood. Remember, once there was just one Oracle; one brave soul is all Aia needs,” Eirian said. “You took the name ‘Saiara’ when you became a novice, didn’t you?”