by Lesley Smith
“They were let out, everyone thought they were transporting your corpse for burning.”
Vashi nearly choked. “What?”
“Everyone thought you were dead from your wounds, so they wrapped you in a shroud and carried you.”
“Daughter!” Meresia pushed past Kadian. “Oh, you look well, my child. How do you feel?”
“Confused, mostly. I don’t remember being dead.” Vashi reached out for Kadian. “What was that about Jio? I overheard you talking, is he all right?”
“He’s missing,” Kadian said, unable to keep the concern from his voice. “No one’s seen him since this morning.”
“And you want to go look for him?” Vashi knew he was torn, not wanting to leave her, but worried about his younger sibling. “Go!”
“Are you sure?”
“Go! I’ll still be breathing when you get back, and I would like some words with my mother. Be safe, and hurry back when you find him.”
He kissed her. “I’ll try, the gods willing.”
Meresia sighed and spoke once Kadian was safely out of earshot. “I don’t think he will find him. I worry he goes into greater danger for a child already across the River.”
“If Jio was your child, if he were me or Thress, you would look, mother. You know you would. You’d tear the world apart to find your child,” Vashi spoke softly, feeling older with every word that slipped from her lips. “Taras is looking too?”
“He’s trying, but his role as clanfather comes first. He has a caravan to load, and a dozen other things he should be doing also.”
“Then stay with me but a moment longer,” Vashi said. “I’d help too, but I worry I would be more of a nuisance than anything else.”
“You need your rest, daughter of mine,” Meresia was firm. “Chelle will keep an eye on you, Thressia too.”
“My sister is still your heir. I don’t seek to change what must be.”
“We have our roles to play, even you, though you no longer serve oracles.”
Vashi contradicted her. “I do though, they’re coming here. I will serve Saiara in all things. It was meant to be that way.”
“How do you know this? Are you god-touched now?”
“I don’t know,” Vashi admitted. “But I know I have a role to play in this, just as you do.”
Meresia insisted on helping Vashi bathe. She hadn’t washed her daughter’s hair since Vashi had been known by her birth name. She had been Thressia’s age, a child about to bloom into adulthood. Vashi let her get on with it, and was glad of fresh clothes and clean skin. Someone had tried to wash the blood from her while she was unconscious, but it took a bath as hot as cooking stones to get the scent of death of to leave her.
Afterwards she sat and ate a simple meal, Meresia leaving her in the tender care of her younger sibling and Chelle, the sister of her saviour. The older woman was pregnant and Vashi worried for her, that any small stress might set off her labour a moon early.
As night fell, Eirian and Saiara, the last of an esteemed order, arrived at the tavern with the city as their escort. On any other night, the owner—Jarin—would have celebrated and opened casks. Instead, they found simple spare rooms for the honoured oracles.
Vashi had never been so pleased to see either of them, though it quickly became apparent that Shaari was not with them, nor Geetha and Keiue. All had crossed the River, but Vashi, like Saiara, knew it had to be this way.
Kadian came back after dark, his face worried. He had had no luck finding Jio and when the question was asked, he admitted it to himself and the others.
“What if he was killed during the quake?” He asked. “I went as far as Danshu and there were bodies everywhere. I checked them but none were him, and they are still trying to dig people out.”
“Jaisenthia guide him,” Meresia replied. It was an automatic response, and she realised how odd it sounded when Jaisenthia walked in mortal form among them. “If he’s not back by morning, we can only pray for his soul. He knows our planned route, so if he lives, perhaps he will meet us at Canhei.”
“But, Mother—” Kadian began.
“We have to leave, Kadian, I’m sorry. Would you risk all our lives for one child who might already be dead?” She immediately regretted being so harsh. “I’m sorry.”
Kadian hung his head and spoke softly. “I have failed him.”
Eirian reached out for him and answered gently. “No, my son, we all have our paths to walk. His was his own. If he lives, he will find a way back to us, and if he has passed, then you will meet again in another place.”
“I’ve not seen him,” Saiara apologised. “The vision was so…panoramic. I never saw any individuals, much less one boy.”
“That’s because what is to come affects our whole world. If it were a smaller thing, like the Great Quake which levelled Erathi, or the Night Plague, you might have seen individuals. Even we oracles see only pieces of the puzzle, not the whole picture.”
“And we are the only two left,” Saiara mourned, and Vashi knew she was thinking of Shaari, Geetha and Keiue.
“We’re not,” Eirian said softly. “There is one other. The Heretic. Though she has never been that.”
Vashi knew the name though she couldn’t remember anyone ever telling it to her. Perhaps she had read it in one of the many tomes she had to recite for Jashri. “Lyse of Baaren?”
Eirian was unsurprised. “I thought you had the look of an oracle about you, but then, given that your aunt was a seer it’s to be expected, I suppose.”
“Don’t call her that!” Vashi was stunned by her own reaction, but the pulling of threads, the linking of her with Jashri made her feel sick. “Please, Mother, never again.”
“I apologise, but you have the blood in you whether you like it or not, child,” Eirian said. “A few generations ago there were many more seers—the members of the sisterhood, then there were those officially designated ‘oracles’, those who the temple identified and inducted into the Aian Order. These unknown souls guided in small ways, without temple training, from within their communities. Then Iasei’s predecessor decided we must be…regulated, that we must all live within the temple. It was not her wisest proclamation, but then Klione loved order above all things, even above the communities who needed the seers’ guidance.”
“I’m not a seer,” Vashi said. “I'm not blind, for one thing.”
“They were not all blind, they were simply older souls, ones with a little more vision. It’s only that since Kaiene, blindness has been a telltale sign. As we lose our sight, so our other senses compensate.”
Saiara piped up. “What was it you were telling me, Eirian, of the stories from the sacred scrolls?”
“Kaiene said that she would hold the mantle of oracle several times, as would each of those who came after her. So I have held it in this life, and will again. Saiara, this I think, is your first time—but it will not be your last.”
“‘The mantle changes hands, each time to a keeper familiar with the burdens,’” Vashi said, remembering a passage from the scrolls as if she herself had written it. “‘Those who hold it are few in number and they will step up to guide this world when others might falter. They are the brave, the wise, the pious and the true.’”
From across the table, Chelle stared. “How do you remember all that?”
“I spent years reading for Jashri.” Vashi dipped the last of her flatbread into her stew. “Being handmaid to the High Oracle means developing a very good memory. She would always ask for ‘that tome where Jadias did this’ or ‘the story where Kaiene recounts her meeting with Fiara’. I would have to know them in order to ask Beren for the right tome.”
“Beren?” Chelle asked, unfamiliar with the name.
“The Codexmaster of the temple library,” Vashi replied.
“And a former Companion,” Eirian added, slyly. “That, of course, was the worst kept of secrets. Amongst the blind, the sound of a person’s voice can't be concealed.”
“Who t
ested you, Saiara?” Vashi asked softly.
“A young man…I have no idea who, though.”
“It would be one of Beren’s line, his nephew, I’m sure.” Eirian poured herself a glass of iced wine, and for a moment Vashi forgot she was blind. “Though that hardly matters now.”
Chelle looked thoughtful. “The library? There’s a lot of smoke coming from the temple. Someone mentioned that a fire started after the last quake.”
“Are you sure?” Vashi wasn’t going to leave Beren, and she knew the old Codexmaster well enough to know he would not leave his books unless dragged from the stacks.
“As much as I can be from my limited wanderings in the city,” Chelle said. “Wait, Vashi, you can’t be thinking of going out there!”
“I have to.” She was already pulling on a hakashari left discarded on a neighbouring chair. “Eirian, Saiara, please, stay here. I’ll return as soon as I can. Chelle, keep them safe for me, our world depends on it.”
The streets were maze-like and the smoke drifting on the breeze made it hard to breathe and even harder to see. The Resting Baelish was near the temple, but the doors and windows had been sealed, if only to protect the inhabitants from looters. Anything of value, though, was long gone and books, it seemed, weren’t high on the list of things of worth. Knowledge never was, and a part of Vashi was glad. The temple complex was all but deserted, most of the slaves having fled, and the priestesses who had stayed behind were probably in the worship hall.
Inside, she shouted for Beren. “Old Father?”
The old man was kneeling in front of the statue, and he didn’t look up. His long, warm cloak shrouded his form, and for a moment Vashi wasn’t sure it was him. She touched his shoulder, fingers hesitant and afraid of what they might tell her, but he was warm and still alive.
“Daughter,” the old man said lovingly. “Dear Vashi-child. I knew you’d come. Though, are you just a form of Jaisenthia, come to take me? I heard how you died, child, that Darus beat you on Jashri’s orders.”
“I’m not dead. Father?” She fell to her knees beside him, seeing a small vial uncorked and empty at his feet. It smelled of sweetness and death.
Beren met her gaze, his eyes welling with tears. “I am a coward, daughter, I’m afraid of what is to come. I know the flames are on their way so I invited the Lady of the River here a little earlier than planned.”
“But Old Father, we’re leaving the city. You could have come with us.”
“No, child, my time is done.” Beren patted her arm gently. “Don’t grieve. I have thousands of books on herblore and I’ve taken a draught that will see me fall asleep before it kills me. By the time the fire comes, I will be far on the other side of the River.”
Vashi felt tears running down her cheeks, burning her skin like acid. “Jaisenthia keep you safe, Beren.”
“Good girl,” he said, indicating a small knapsack. “Those are for you. My nephew, the current Companion, was killed in the last quake. One of the pillars fell and crushed him. The line is vacant but a daughter of Jadias still lives, a healer and cousin to the Lady Saiara. I task you to take these tomes to her so that her line might continue and the memories be preserved. She will become the next Companion, and her daughters after her.”
The books were ancient and carefully bound. In shock, Vashi realised one of them was the record of the Sacred Scrolls as recorded by Jadias at Kaiene’s request. That was temple property and kept somewhere safe and secret in the Hall of the Oracles. In front of them was a carefully wrapped parcel that Vashi recognised as a staff: Kaiene’s staff. She knew the staff as if it was her own possession. Perhaps it had been, once, long ago—but not now, not this lifetime.
“I took them. The inkbrush, the staff, they belong to generations of oracles yet to be born, not to Jashri,” Beren wasn’t looking at her but beyond, his eyes unfocused. “Now the Ferryman comes for me, my daughter. I shall give him your regards. Go, quickly, and get to safety.”
Vashi hugged him, tears in her eyes, even as she began to cough. Around her books were burning, knowledge fading into oblivion.
“Vashi!” Kadian’s voice sounded through the smoke. “Are you in there?”
Old Beren went still in her arms, his eyes still open and his face strangely peaceful. She laid him down gently even as Kadian grabbed her. “Come on!”
The knapsack and staff in her arms, they hurried out of the library even as the fire began to eat the building whole. As they wove their way through the streets, the building collapsed in a dull thump of smoke, dust, and flame.
“Poor Beren,” Vashi mourned, and then looked at Kadian, his face covered in soot. “Did you find him? Jio?”
Her beloved shook his head and, together, the lovers ran back to the relative safety of the Resting Baelish as the city quaked around them.
Senara had started logically; they had gone to the Hall of Healing and ensured all the walking wounded had designated townsfolk to help them get to the caravan. Some, of course, mainly the old or the sick, had refused to go and so she had left them in the care of the two or three stubborn healers who dismissed Saiara’s prophecy. There would always be disbelievers and she couldn’t change their minds, there wasn’t enough time to even try.
She stripped the supply cupboard, leaving a little for the remaining souls who wished to die in the holy city, but took everything else. It took both of them an hour to pack everything from herbs and soporific draughts to bandages and dressings. Finally, Senna carefully packed her medical scrolls, the ones that she had kept hidden. Now that the library was gone, no one would know she had Uryen’s scrolls.
The supplies packed, the two women went back to Mother Danae’s. The place was quiet. There would be no worship tonight, Mother Danae had already arranged passage and all her acolytes were traveling with her. Knapsacks had been packed with the basics: food, water, flints, and the smallest sticks of incense. Hardly essential but useful all the same.
Senna stood in the mess of her room. Most of her possessions had been ruined and she carefully folded a clean pair of robes, placing them into a bag and then found her good walking boots. Sandals were all well and good, but useless when it came to hiking north.
Mother Danae tapped on the door. “Senna?”
“Mother, come in,” she said. “This is Jeiana, the woman I told you about.”
“Ah, Jeiana. Greetings,” Danae said, and handed Senna an old redweave hakashari. “I found this and thought it suitable for you, my child.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Senna said.
“I will see you both with the dawn. The bath is hot and you both look like you could do with it,” she said knowingly. “And get some sleep. I will wake the house early and we will leave together, as family should.”
“As you wish, Mother.”
It was only when the two women saw themselves in the polished glass of the bathhouse that they realised what she meant. Both of them were covered in dust and soot, their hair matted from dirt. Candles flickered around them and dust covered the tiled floor. Danae or Lanna had swept much of it away but half the floor was still black with the odd distinct footprint marring the perfection of the settled dust. The ceiling had cracked, the lightgate was now an erratic oval, and much of the low dome had ended up cracked on the tiled floor.
Both women washed the dust and soot out of their hair and realised this would probably be their last bath for quite a white. The hot water turned their skins pink, and Jeiana gazed at the hole in the ceiling. The stars twinkled and Kaiene was dark, in mourning for the day’s dead.
“Senna?”
“Hm?” She was tying her clean hair up in a bun to keep it out of the water. “What’s wrong, my dearest? Are you still ill from earlier?”
“No, it was just a moment of discomfort,” Jeiana hesitated, feeling the need to explain. “That much energy isn’t supposed to flow through any conduit, much less a mortal one. I think it burnt out some synapses, maybe a tiny bit of damage to the brain itself.”
&
nbsp; “You must be indwelt, to use words like that.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise, ever. Not for saving a life.”
“You knew her?” Jeiana asked.
“By sight and name yes, we spoke once or twice.” Senna found the soap and began to rub it into Jeiana’s skin, scrubbing off the layer of dirt engrained into her flesh. They would be the last to bathe so it wouldn’t matter if the water was muddied, even if the habit of decades was hard for her to break. “Do you think we’ll survive?”
“You mean the Kashinai?”
“Yes.”
“Oh they will,” Jeiana said, memories of strange creatures who swam through space dancing in her mind, their song echoing for eternity. “After this time of trial, the Kashinai will start to explore beyond this world. They will live and thrive, with communities on a dozen worlds.”
“Before yesterday I might have thought this all just a fancy. The dreams of a sickening mind.”
“I tell you so that when I forget, you can remind me,” Jeiana said. “That scares me, losing myself, and I’ve pushed myself too far already.”
“You did something good; you saved Vashi.”
“She didn’t deserve that death,” Jeiana said. “I didn’t save her, I just took unused days and transferred them over.”
“What will happen to Jashri?”
“She will die when Aiaea is destroyed, but don’t worry, her soul will heal in her next life, or perhaps the one after. Her debt is paid already and we are not so callous as to hound those who flinch in fear.”
“So we do live many times?”
She laughed. “Think of the worlds. Your pantheon says there are about twenty five gods with chosen planets named in the scrolls?”
“There are more than that, many were unnamed.”
“Exactly. Now think of all the souls on each of those worlds across all of time. That’s more souls than there are grains of sand on the shore. It makes sense that even though they are many, each soul lives many times, on different worlds and in different times.”