The Changing of the Sun

by Lesley Smith

  “Hey!”

  “Don’t push!”

  “We’re all trying to see the Ascension.”

  He could see them on the steps at the front of the temple surrounded by an ocean of people. Eirian stood in her worn vestments; she was once more the High Oracle, beloved of the people. She was Eirian the Wise again and the most beloved High Oracle in generations, she was the living bridge between the Edoi and the cityfolk, and every soul in Aia’s city had come out to see her name the next Voice.

  He was still too far, but Eirian’s ears had twitched, she had heard the noise and commotion and called for silence, her hands out in a gesture universal for silence and calm. Her voice had all the power he remembered when the mantle had been hers; she spoke as a true orator but, of course, that had been Khannam’s gift to her.

  “My friends, it has been many years, far too long in fact, since I last left the temple, since I stood before you, and today I do so for Aia Herself whispered. I come today before you, as Kaiene commanded, to name the successor to her mantle.”

  “Where is Jashri?” Darus cried out. “How can you name her when it is Jashri who holds the mantle?”

  Eirian heard but he wasn’t sure if she realised it was his voice in the throng. “Kaiene’s own words allow me to do so.”

  “Sedition!” Darus shouted. “You seek to usurp our High Oracle with a puppet of your own.”

  “Darus?” Shaari’s voice answered, she recognised his lilt, his malice, and nearly dropped her ceremonial gong. “It would be you!”

  Darus pulled himself onto the steps, free of the maelstrom of eager souls there to watch history being made. He had to be careful. They were idiots who loved Eirian without question and they would turn and devour him if he said more than three words against her.

  The city shook then, as if Ishvei’s World itself demanded silence at this historic moment. It wasn’t the first time that day, but this earthquake was the largest so far and the first to be felt. The ones during the night were noticed only by animals and seers who no longer walked this world. Silence rippled across Aiaea and even Darus stilled, he realised then what he had to do and reached for the small blade he kept hidden in his boot. All attendants carried them as the last line of defence for their oracles. As much as Jashri might wish he was not hers, and officially he still might not be her attendant, but temple law said otherwise. The knife had come with his oath, and Darus had done a great many things but he had never broken that promise and so the knife had been his to keep.

  “By Kaiene’s decree, by Aia’s wisdom and grace, I name you-”

  The knife left his hands, speeding through a gap in the crowd. He had aimed it at Eirian’s head, instead it found a target in Shaari. Until the day he died, Darus was never sure how blind Shaari was. Had it been vestigial vision that saved her, or perhaps something more preternatural? Darus believed as all Kashinai did, that Aia spoke through the oracles, that they saw things no one else could see, but this was his first witnessing of that power.

  It would also be Shaari’s last.

  Her head snapped up so quickly the joints cracked, and Darus felt cold, like his spine had been frozen while still in his body. For a moment Shaari could see him, not just his physical appearance but his mind and what remained of a soul as well. She knew what he intended to do even before Darus himself realised, but then all oracles, whether consciously or not, knew how they would die and when.

  The force of her movements managed to send Eirian sprawling. The crowd cried out, unsure who had been hit. Blood darkened the steps, but no one was quite sure whose, until Saiara raised one blood-stained palm and lifted her sister-oracle into her arms.

  Shaari groaned, her hand clutching at her throat. Darus knew then that he had severed the largest artery, the one linking brain and body. The girl was a shade walking, her soul not yet aware her body was finished. She would die and he had the time he needed.

  “Don’t move her!” Senna pushed through the crowd, Jeiana following behind her and death walking in her wake. They passed right by Darus but only the indwelt woman seemed to know it was his hand that had thrown the knife.

  Her eyes on him, Darus’ stomach turned and he fled, reason returning as his legs carried him through a crowd which no longer fought his passing. Jashri must know of this. Only she could stop this madness and he had only minutes to tell her.

  Shaari hadn’t expected dying to hurt. This had been her first vision but it was only now the realisation hit her, that strange sense of deja vu which transcended lives and seemed to be a tenuous connection to eternity. A part of her argued against such a demise, she was too young, she had so much more to achieve and yet her dying self glimpsed infinity and knew that this was what must be. There were other lives to live, other people to be and other planets to see.

  “Eirian?”

  “I’m here, child.” Eirian reached out and took her hand, holding it tightly almost as if to keep her anchored to this existence.

  “Shaari.”

  The Lady of the River spoke her name and it resonated. Shaari remembered her then, and remembered her companion, remembered the boy chasing behind them as they walked between here and there, between past and future.

  “I’m done,” she mouthed, one hand still clamped against her throat, but the grip was loosening, the blood seeping hot and wet between her fingers.

  She felt Jeiana kneel next to her, gently removing Eirian’s hand. Her voice was calm and echoed for a moment, as if a thousand versions of herself were speaking at once. There was an authority there that only one of the gods might have. “It’s all right, Mother. Let me do what must be done. You and she will meet again, I promise, and each of you will know the other.”

  “Before I go,” Shaari managed to find words. “Eirian, please, name her. I want to know my sister has Ascended.”

  “What?” Eirian sounded like she wanted to dissuade the girl, as if she had asked for breakfast or for sweet wine before the evening bell rang.

  Senna spoke, her own hand pressing against Shaari’s to keep the blood from leaking out of her. “She has moments. Do it, Eirian, if only to give her soul some peace.”

  It was a private thing, even if all of the city was watching. Shaari watched through misted vision. Even as the darkness crept in, even as the colour drained from her flesh, she witnessed history and that was all she ever wanted; to see Saiara embrace her destiny.

  “I, Eirian the Wise, born Lenara of the Bashaaki, do anoint you Saiara the Brave, forty-eighth High Oracle of Aia.” Eirian inscribed the sigil of Aia, the circle, on Saiara’s forehead with holy oil. “As Aia whispers so do we listen.”

  “As Aia whispers so do we listen,” the assembled crowd repeated, tone reverent and respectful.

  “Thank you,” Shaari spoke, and she exhaled for the last time. Jeiana let her hand fall and her soul slip away. He would keep her safe on the path.

  “No!” Saiara screamed, more grief-stricken than angry.

  Eirian shook her gently. “Saiara, you must have courage even in moments of sorrow. Speak to the people you serve. Do it for your fallen sister. Then we will find her murderer.”

  “You swear it?”

  “By Cerasi I do. Justice always finds the guilty, in this life or in the after.” Eirian stopped and spoke so that only the girl could hear. “We are not orators, child, but your honesty will do you more than prepared words ever could. Channel your grief into inspiration. Speak now as if our entire species’ fate depends on it. You and I, we believe it does. Our survival depends on convincing others.”

  Tears in her eyes, staff in hand, Saiara stood. As she did so, she was no longer a child of the temple but a leader, albeit one whose new persona might crack at a moment’s close inspection. Back straight, her face and body obscured by the robes of office worn down the ages. She stood and projected her voice as Eirian had taught her, funneling her grief into words that the assembled crowd would heed and listen.

  “Brothers, sisters. I was like you, and t
hen Aia took my vision. I dreamed of a cataclysm coming to befall us. Dark days are ahead, and Thaeos will soon visit his fury upon us. The quake earlier today was just the first of many calamities which await us. The land will burn, the sea will bubble and we will die unless we travel north. There is sanctuary in the Canhei Basin and the great Forest of the Lightflies.”

  Then she detailed the specifics of her vision and the crowd hushed.

  “Come north with us. Saddle what animals you have and can ride, and join our caravan, our community of refugees. We leave the city with morning. I free all slaves, all bondservants. I release all debtors and criminals. You are all free to live or die as you choose from this moment,” Saiara said, her passion and desperation clear in her words. “Everyone is welcome providing you bring only the essentials: food, water, hakashari, and any skills you possess. We share food and water, we share medicines and knowledge, we lay aside quarrels and embrace friendship. Knowing this, all are welcome. I cannot promise you will live, but I do know, if you stay here, you won’t have a chance. Come with me, it is all I can offer you.”

  “We are with you, Oracle!” someone yelled. “In memory of your fallen sister, out of the darkness from which you lead us!”

  “Where you step so shall we follow,” another cried, and then the cheers began.

  Jio had trailed his prey relentlessly, just as old hunter Sanuc had taught him, but the dennabird was harder to follow than a manic pride of forest cats. He scrambled through the streets, clambering up walls and onto the flat roofs in the richer side of town, skirting closer to the River Road with every step. For a little while, Jio was convinced the bird knew he was there, but then it settled on another rooftop, obviously chasing a maelan or some other vermin.

  Jio’s bare feet thudded, slapping against tile and compressed earth, his tail following behind him. For a few minutes he felt like he was flying as he raced over familiar roads trodden only by the brave children of the Edoi, and because the dennabird was upwind, the bird didn’t even notice he was being followed.

  The temple had put out a notice that morning that one of their messenger-birds had escaped and were offering a nice reward. That part didn’t mean so much to an Edoi child, but Jio had set himself the task of finding it, winding his way through Aiaea and up the Waterfall Road until he accidentally stepped into Danshu.

  He was doing it as a test of skills he hadn’t yet perfected. How he intended to catch and keep the bird, well that was something Jio hadn’t quite figured out. Would his net be enough to hold the bird without harming his wings, and how would he get it back to the city? He realised then he’d not quite thought this through.

  That when the largest of the quakes, caused by the stresses placed on Ishvei’s World by the coming solar storm, shook the city; a city too busy watching their High Oracle being named and another girl dying to see the quake as anything more than the gods’ will manifest.

  Danshu visibly moved. A ripple passed through it and buildings collapsed as if someone had pulled their foundations out from underneath them. Jio, who had just jumped down from a roof, was pushed over and debris from the baker’s narrowly missed his head. He slipped and fell, tossed off his feet, and landed in a heap.

  “Brother? Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?”

  When he looked up, a young man of a similar age to Kadian was looking back at him. He was an attendant, a servant-priest to an oracle, and yet he wore casual clothes beneath his hakashari.

  Jio stood, mentally checking himself. “Yes, I think so.”

  “Come, follow me, quickly. The buildings are coming down around us.”

  In the space of three heartbeats, the priest had dragged him below ground, into one of the caves which the locals called ‘the Underside’. Damp, moss, and the tang of water swamped his senses as Jio half slipped, half fell down the stone steps, the older man’s hand on his arm. Once at the bottom, they stopped, and Jio’s brain stopped spinning.

  “What’s going on?” Another boy, this one only a year older than his rescuer asked. “Caspa?”

  “Some kind of quake, Danshu is falling.”

  Above them, the creaking of rock, the screaming of foundations breaking.

  An older voice echoed from below them, hoarse and desperate. “Guide them in! Quickly, boys, save whomever you can!”

  “As you command, Old Father,” Caspa called back.

  Danshu was falling in on itself, the frightened running through the streets only to be picked off by masonry or crushed by rock. The three of them called out, beckoning the panicked towards them. The Underside was known for safety; it was impenetrable and many were heading towards them in hopes of sanctuary.

  Jio looked up, the setting sun blinding him even as stars were already beginning to show on the canvas of the darkening sky. It suddenly occurred to him how far he was from the Azure Grasslands and the holy isle of Abbia. He wondered if Kadian worried for him yet, if he had started searching the streets and back alleys for him. He had told the elders his plans over breakfast, a boast of triumphs to come, but would they remember?

  Or would they think him dead, lost in the ruins of a city falling?

  “Grab the boy!” Someone cried and Jio felt stronger hands than his grab his arm and pull him backwards into the darkness. Seconds later a stone landed where he had been standing. It would have crushed him but for the man who had saved him.

  “You’re Edoi, aren’t you boy? What’s your name?”

  “Jio of the Feium Asun.”

  “I’m Rand, this is Casparias,” the older one said, and then asked the real question which had been dancing though his mind. “What are the Edoi still doing near Aiaea this far past New Year? Aren’t you supposed to be on the way to Benai by now?”

  “We’re not going there. We only stayed because the Ifunareki Clanmother was refused an audience with the High Oracle. But the city’s split into factions, those following Saiara and those behind Jashri until she steps down.”

  “Wait, Saia’s alive?” Caspa sounded startled. “Sit, Jio. Tell me everything you know.”

  So the Edoi boy did as he was told. He explained his connection the temple, how his elder brother was having an illicit relationship with the Oracles’ bondservant.

  “Vashi?” Caspa asked. “I had no idea. She kept that well hidden.”

  “To be fair,” Rand said softly, “Jashri would have ripped out her ieshiya if she’d realised.”

  Jio paled. “You’re joking, right?”

  There was a darkness in Rand’s eyes and he didn’t answer the question, instead saying, “Come, Jio, let’s get you something to eat. You look like you’ve not seen food all day.”

  The boy ate fresh pillow bread like he was some street urchin from the poor quarter and not an Edoi child. As he ate, he told Caspa how the Lady of Death was walking the streets in Kashinai form, how Saiara was living with oracles, and how Jashri had had Vashi beaten but Jaisenthia had healed her.

  “Wait, repeat that again,” Caspa said. “How does a deity of death give someone back their life?”

  “No idea, but Senara swore that was what happened.”

  “Wait? You mean the healer? Pretty lady with red hair? Mothering age? Red robes?” Caspa asked, and Jio laughed a bit, recognising his description. “Yes, that was her.”

  “Senara is Saia’s cousin,” Caspa said, more to Rand than the boy. “So what were you doing this far out of the city?”

  “Chasing a dennabird,” the boy admitted.

  From deeper in, another man appeared. “We have a problem.”

  Rand looked up. “What is it, Lorn?”

  “The exit’s blocked,” Lorn sounded worried, even as his eyes settled on the Edoi boy. “We’re sealed in.”

  The Falling of Aiaea

  This was always the City of the Disembodied Goddess, and we live so it remains immortal in memory, even if it one day falls to dust.

  The writings of Kaiene the Blessed, first Oracle of Aia.

  Night was coming t
o Aia’s city, and panic floated on the breeze. Vashi sensed it before she even opened her eyes. Her return to consciousness was slow and she could hear voices before she realised she was awake.

  “So Eirian has named her? Well, we leave tomorrow then,” Meresia said softly. “Are you and your sister prepared, Chelle?”

  “We will be,” Chelle said. “Where is my sister anyhow?”

  “She’s helping Senara pack her things at Kodia’s temple.” Vashi knew that voice, it was Kadian’s, and he sounded concerned. “I just need to track Jio down. He mentioned something about going dennabird hunting this morning.”

  “Find him then, and fast,” Meresia said. “We need to leave as soon as Thaeos rises on the morrow.”

  “Kadi?” Vashi called, her voice hoarse and her throat drier than a desert. “Wait!”

  “Vashi?” He pushed open the door and stared. “When did you wake up?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “There were voices and…shaking. What was that?”

  “A quake.” Kadian sat next to her. “Something’s wrong and your mother is keen to leave. Eirian named Saiara on the temple steps.”

  “Good,” Vashi said. “And Jashri?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Vashi then realised the room felt familiar but it wasn’t in the tower. She could smell teirei and wine as if it was ingrained in the walls. “Where am I?”

  “The Resting Baelish. You were beaten. Senna and Jeiana brought you here.”

  She winced, blurry memories making themselves known as she sipped water and tried to order things in her mind. “I remember that bit. How did they smuggle me out of the temple?”