A Glimmer on the Blade

by Rachel E. Baddorf

  “Who are you?” demanded the blonde high priestess.

  “I am Ildiko, seventh of the Temple. My prince and I were the only ones who survived.”

  “If this conspiracy really did take place, how was it that you survived?” another priestess asked.

  “Through the will of the Goddess, I...” Copelia gave her a sharp look and the woman changed what she had been intending to say. They did not know if the sigil was still strong on these clergy. They could not be trusted to know the location of the prince. “...I was brought to safety.”

  “I have the Sybil’s casters,” Copelia interjected, showing her hands and pulling up her skirt so they could see the other set. “I am the Sybil and I need your help. The Highlord Shaiso was behind this attack. He will try to kill us all.”

  “I am not sure I believe you,” said the fat little priest, kindly. He wore a pack and carried a staff. He was also still covered in dust.

  “Then I will have to show you, won’t I?” Copelia gathered herself and began the opening prayer. Light came into her hands, just a glow, as she finished. “I call to the Lady’s true followers, come and be recognized.”

  The clergy looked shocked, frozen for a moment before a novice pushed his way to the front. He was small, perhaps seven years old. He gave Ildiko a big smile and a wink, but he didn’t waver at the offer he was given. He marched up to the head table as Copelia stepped off the table onto the floor. The boy, his short brown hair tousled, took Copelia’s hands in his own. There was a flare of magic, but Copelia could see no mark on the boy. She almost frowned, not sure what was going on, but the boy’s trusting gaze never wavered. Copelia turned him slightly, and following a compulsion of the power in her, she gently bent the boy’s head forward with one hand.

  “The Goddess has called you. Do you accept?” Copelia asked formally. The boy nodded. Copelia used one finger, the caster warm around her hand, to touch the back of his neck. She felt the power trickle like water out of her finger into his skin, and it glowed, flowing into a spell-line shape to form the Goddess’s sigil. The boy giggled and shivered. Copelia let him go, and he almost skipped back to the crowd of novices. Copelia shook her head in wonder and turned her gaze to the clergy. The power in her boiled and she could see through the clergy. She could see the glyphs on some of their necks and watched as they lit up. Almost half of the temple people did not sport the mark. Either they had never had one because they had not been called to do special service, or they had lost theirs through their actions. The blonde high priestess did not have the mark. Without malice or judgment, Copelia held out her hand to the high priestess in offering. The high priestess looked at her hand and turned away, her face a mask of pain. She fought her way to the back of the room and left. Copelia offered her hand to the others without the mark. Six high priestesses only turned away, faces haunted by their own thoughts. Three high priestesses were denied the mark by the Goddess—the power would not flow into their skin. Two priests and three acolytes took her hand and were granted the sigil.

  That only left the novices. Copelia wanted to stop; she could feel the power burning up her energy reserves. She also didn’t want to push this on the young ones. They would not be part of the power struggle to come. They could still become acolytes and clergy without the mark. She tried to voice the closing of the prayer, a thanksgiving to the Goddess. However, she couldn’t get any saliva into her mouth.

  She swallowed and tried again, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. The novices, frightened and unsure, had hung back. Copelia tried to work her throat as she heard the high voice of the first boy she had marked from the back of the crowd.

  “Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt. Really. Go ahead. It’s like a mouthful of spirits. Come on, who’s too chicken?”

  Copelia shot Ildiko a questioning look. Ildiko covered a smile.

  “That’s Maximo Bacrese,” she said as she tried to get a hold of herself. “Always like that. Here now,” she called to a girl novice revealed by the milling of the crowd. “Priya? Good to see you girl.”

  The girl ran up and gave Ildiko a big hug. “I’m glad you’re here, Ildiko. We thought you were gone in the chamber.” She was thin and hollow eyed, her chestnut toned skin a little dusty from playing. Copelia guessed she was one of the orphans taken in by the temple to insure food would go in her belly.

  “I’m glad you got out.” Ildiko hugged her back, then held her away to look her up and down. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. So do’ya think the Lady’ll take me?” the girl asked nervously.

  Guilt reared its ugly head. Bringing children farther into this war...Copelia’s thoughts were cut off when she swallowed again, finally able to speak. Taking the girl’s hands in her own, she winked. “You don’t have to...But she took me, didn’t she?” Copelia gently tilted the girl’s head forward and touched her scrawny brown neck. The sigil was a different shape. It flared and for a moment Copelia could see the image of a nightlioness, stalking protectively around the girl, purring. It faded and from the lack of reaction in the other clergy, Copelia thought she had been the only one to see it. The girl shivered with a delighted smile and ran to Maximo. Perhaps not the only one to feel the power of the Goddess’s blessing on her then...

  Copelia made the mark on the rest of the novices without any extra fireworks or signs. Her casters’ light faded and she wavered, barely able to stand from exhaustion. The rotund little priest caught her by the shoulders and pushed her down on to the bench near the high table.

  “Rest,” he said and called a servant to bring her some restorative tea. “There hasn’t been this much shake up in the Temple for a century or more.”

  She looked up at him warily. “Who are you?”

  “Brother Ammon,” he smiled in introduction.

  “Why were so many of the high priestesses dismissed?”

  “It was the will of the Goddess,” Ildiko said softly.

  “Perhaps She finally saw through their charade,” Ammon said, a lightly chiding tone entering his gentle voice. “Those high priestesses were promoted in the past because they were from lord and Highlord families. Alcyenne never saw any problem in bowing to the hints of the gentry.”

  “Everyone has a part in the Goddess’s plan. The Sybil knew they would be judged by the Goddess,” Ildiko said stubbornly.

  “I wouldn’t want those rich misses to be praying for my soul.”

  “You are too harsh, Brother Ammon,” Ildiko admonished.

  “I’m too tired for this,” Copelia interrupted. She did so reluctantly, as it was the most animation she had seen from Ildiko in all the time she had known her. “Ammon, you spoke up. You’re tagged as my third. We need to make arrangements for the first boy and girl novices who took the mark.”

  Both Ildiko and Ammon stared at her in utter amazement. Ildiko was the first to speak. “You can’t do that. Men are not allowed that level of rank in the Temple. They cannot be high priests, they cannot have rank.”

  “Don’t complain, Ildiko. You didn’t want to be my general, remember? Now you won’t be alone.” Copelia took a gulp of the hot tea offered to her by a servant. “Ah, delegation is a wonderful thing. We have to return to the palace tomorrow.”

  “Um, thank you,” Ammon said. He looked like he was choking on something. “I’ll just go do that, then. And, uh...I’ll need to talk to you later. I was on a mission for the Sybil when this all happened.” He hurried off to find the novices that she had named.

  Copelia watched the milling clergy. They had not calmed down or gotten much information. Someone would have to deal with them.

  “Clergy! Please organize yourself by your temple location. There will be more instructions later,” Copelia said. The milling became a little more organized.

  A priestess’s voice rose above the others. “Where have you been all day? You disobeyed the rules and my orders and left the compound!”

  The crowd parted on an old priestess, screaming at a stocky girl with a whit
e-blonde braid pinned around her head; she was dressed as a stablehand and covered in dust.

  “I went out to find more of our brothers and sisters. I brought in Brother Ammon and I was getting the news of what is going on outside the city.”

  “That is none of your concern!” shrilled the old priestess.

  “Hey you!” Copelia shouted. The fierce-looking acolyte turned to look at her. “What’s your name?”

  “Ketchkei. What’d you want?”

  “Where are you from?” Copelia asked. The acolyte was her own age. Her name was unusual.

  “Aminado Delta. Just because you think you can buy your way into the temple, doesn’t mean I have time to waste on you,” the acolyte said rudely, turning back to the angry old priestess.

  Copelia opened her mouth to say something but the acolyte growled over whatever it was, “Don’t make me come over there and show you where you can shove those casters. My priestess needs me.” She glared at the angry priestess when she said it.

  Copelia smiled wickedly. “Ketchkei of Aminado Delta, you’re my fourth. Tell your priestess that the Sybil needs you more. Gather your possessions when you’re done, and come back here.”

  “Why?” she demanded, her face was like a thundercloud looking for a good target. The old priestess was speechless.

  Copelia smiled. “Come back and I’ll let you know.”

  The duo glared at Copelia and rushed away. Copelia wondered if she would see the acolyte again.

  Ildiko looked at her aghast and said, “Please, you have to stop doing that. There is a proper order to all things in the temple. An acolyte must be ordained by their sponsoring clergy member.”

  “I like her. We can deal with the formalities later. I need someone loyal to the temple to help me keep this together. The high lord Shaiso was killing clergy even before the attack. I’ve spent too long around Mizrahi and my brother not to know a little strategy. This house is an easy target, as are the rest of the clergy in Aquillion. We need defense and organization. And I need rest...” Copelia’s head was swimming. She thought with dread of the trip she would have to make back into the palace soon.

  Ammon bustled up, looking more cheerful. “The novices are being housed in the lofts.”

  “Would you have them bring their belongings up to the house in a while? I’ll have a room readied for them. And you. Bring your belongings.” She sighed seeing Sarousch hiding near the left wall of the dining hall. She signaled to him, her attention still on Ammon. “Would you tell the clergy to settle down. I’ll have the servants bring out supplies for washing. They can get cleaned up and get their robes cleaned.”

  Sarousch reached them and she relayed the message to him. He nodded, leaving again to summon the servants.

  “I’m going to go rest. I’ll have washing things ready for you and the novices, and that acolyte. Tell her to follow along. We’ve got to make a plan to get back into the Temple,” said Copelia. She signaled to the servants to bring Ildiko along and made her way out and back to her bed. She left word with her maid to have the three rooms across the hall from her own cleared out and readied for her personal guests. She barely got out of her gown and into her bed before she was asleep.

  ***

  Aquillion

  Horacio Franco

  Franco remembered someone speaking during the fever, a familiar voice, going on and on about honor and history. And finally he had enough.

  “Shaiso, shoot me please! Just don’t lecture to me anymore,” he yelled in desperation from the pit of his fever. The voice stopped. A hand peeled back his eyelids. Franco struggled against the painful light, but the hand fell away and he was able to squint and see. Fadarin Shaiso sat on a stool beside him, looking annoyed. The stone room was the same, the straw palette was the same, and by the smell, his clothes were the same.

  “I was merely making conversation,” drawled Shaiso.

  “You have asked your questions. And gotten rubbish, I might add. You’ve threatened to let me die. But I keep waking up. What? What is it? Got no drinking companions to talk to about your plot to take over the Empire?”

  Shaiso gave him a chilly stare. “I could bring Markham in. He is a wonder with branding irons.”

  “Is that the problem? You’re not tough enough to do it yourself? Besides, they kept me in the dark about most of it. There’s nothing I can tell you.”

  “I never started out to torture anyone. I just wanted the best for my Empire.”

  “How can there be anything better than the smoothly functioning, non-starving Empire that we have now?” questioned Franco. Now that he was conscious enough maybe he could draw Shaiso out and gather some information that might help him.

  Shaiso pondered, stroking his chin. “The old tech empires, Franco. They had glorious clockwork machines that did their work, farmed their fields, and carried them through the air and up to the stars.”

  “I’ve seen through a telescope, Shaiso. I’ve seen the dome cities on the moon. Did it ever strike you that they’re empty? That whatever the people here did to bring Califf down on them, all that is left of the cities are ruins and sand melted to glass.”

  “But the tech exists. And they had better lives. They had leaders, elected by the people,” he said, determined to persuade him.

  “You really want the people that burn sunsmiths to death in their villages to elect someone to be leader?” asked Franco.

  “Why do you think it was so easy to get this far, Franco? Everything is dependent on family. All those officials got their jobs by being someone’s brother, nephew, or cousin. The incompetent fools who get the positions because of their connections have driven this empire to the brink of disaster.”

  “There are imperial exams.” A smile crossed Franco’s craggy features. “There are graduates. There are Dragons. They are appointed based on their aptitude, not their families.”

  “You put a lot of faith in one underaged stripling Dragon. Our research says he drinks too much, prefers men to women in bed, and has a violent temper. Unfortunately, messenger birds don’t survive long in Safiro, otherwise I would know the death toll already of the Dragons.”

  Franco grit his teeth. “They are better than your best.”

  Shaiso got up. “We will get there. You’re no help for directions, but we will have the Temple and then we will have the throne. I wondered, who is this Anoni? The name sounds familiar. You spoke of her in your sleep. A little girl who caught your fancy somewhere? Sometime when Theresa wasn’t looking?”

  “You speak of honor, but you don’t know the meaning of the word,” Franco snarled, hoping to distract the Highlord.

  Shaiso laughed and locked the door behind him.

  CHAPTER 21

  Aquillion, Merchant District

  Copelia

  The new Temple leaders sat in Copelia’s study; she was behind her desk, Ildiko on her pallet, and Ammon and Ketchkei across the desk in leather armchairs. They sat in silence, lassitude from the night’s rich dinner keeping them from wanting to talk. Ammon finally got up and took a package from the bottom of his pack. “Since you’re the new Sybil, you’ll want to know about this. On paper, I was sent to ‘investigate’ the bandit attacks in Erolia. In reality, we had suspicions Shaiso had reopened mines in the area and was digging for old tech. I tripped over Lord Bacrese at Ankathinos. They were digging for something called Renzeur, some sort of repository of knowledge. They were also digging up these.” He unwrapped the package to show a metal tube attached to a wooden grip and trigger.

  “What is it?” Copelia leaned closer. It smelled of oil and something burnt.

  “A weapon. They’ve got barrels of them.”

  “That’s sacrilege,” Ildiko said with quiet horror. They all looked at her. “I mean real sacrilege; I recognize those from some of the books. They are Califf’s ways.”

  “They almost got me three times trying to bring this here,” Ammon added. “Do you have somewhere safe to put it?”

  Copelia had to jerk
her gaze away, the weapon was so entrancing. “Yes. We have a vault.”

  He covered it again and gave it to her. “Right. Now what is the next step in your plan?”

  “I need another way into the palace. The stablehands have reported guard shifts have doubled. Shaiso either knows someone has been inside, or he suspects someone might be trying to get in.”

  “He could just be tightening security before the coronation,” Ketchkei guessed.

  “We were lucky before. We need to get inside, get the books and the relics out, and of course the prince,” Copelia said.

  “What about the tunnels?” Ketchkei asked.

  “So far as I can tell, the temple tunnels have collapsed during the attack on the Temple. Ildiko, is there any other way in?”

  “No way to walk in.” She thought, pushing her spectacles up her nose. “But if you know how to swim, there might be a way.” She looked a little sick. “It won’t be pretty. Ammon, how much do you know about the aqueducts?”

  “You mean swim up the burial aqueducts into the palace,” he speculated with interest.

  “Alcyenne had a room off her office with a pool in it. The waters flow through special sealed aqueducts throughout the city, and the dead are put in it,” Ildiko said. “They pool in several aquifers under the city.”

  “But there are things in the water, they eat the dead,” he interjected.

  “Why do you put your dead in aqueducts?” Copelia asked, fighting a gag.

  Ildiko motioned for Ammon to explain. “The long and short of it was that when the city was founded, Ozuk were hunting human flesh. They would eat it, or reanimate it to use against us. No amount of burying would keep them safe and in those days, a burial fire was like advertising a free pig roast to the community.”

  “Running water to keep them safe, and something to eat the dead,” Copelia extrapolated.

  “They won’t hurt the Sybil.” Ildiko defensively added to assuage their disbelieving looks, “I’ve seen them. Alcyenne said they wouldn’t hurt her.”