Ciamon raised his voice. “Thousands of years ago, the great god Equalitus was imprisoned by his enemy—Nolius the deceiver, the usurper, the perverter. Now Equalitus is free and a battle is raging in the heavens that is reflected here on earth. Great days are ahead, that will require great feats. But rest assured, with the strength of our faith, victory will be his. Equalitus will overcome his enemy and Nolius will be cast out of the overworld. All his evil work will be undone and the curse of magic will become a memory. Those who Nolius has corrupted will be made ordinary mortals again, no longer able to oppress their fellows. Then we will have peace and justice. All will live in harmony and none will claim domination over another. All will be united in love. Who now can imagine the wonder that will be ours?”
Ciamon carried on spouting ever more effusive words, describing the paradise that was to come, but Tevi’s attention was not on him. The stairs where Ciamon stood led up to a balcony, running around the rear of the hall. A row of watchers were lined along it—priests supporting their leader, to judge by their clothes. Standing close to the centre, and dressed in a similar white robe to the High Priest, was Jemeryl.
Chapter Four—Secret Passages
Tevi much preferred the temple without the fanatical hordes. The huge hall was not deserted the next morning, but she could walk freely, and the temperature was bearable. The atmosphere the previous evening had been smouldering, in many different ways. Or more accurately, it had been like a pot over the fire, with its lid wedged on. The pressure was building up, and soon it would explode. Somebody was going to get very badly scalded.
Even now, the temple was not as Tevi remembered from her first visit, over a dozen years before. Back then, the main hall of the temple had exuded a party mood. The priests had performed their rites; seers had chanted; pilgrims had tottered from idol to idol, awe in their eyes. The temple had been chaotic and outrageous, but it had embraced a happy diversity. Now it was possessed of a far too serious single-mindedness. Then there had been devotion, and exhilaration and anticipation, but beneath it all was a sense of fun. That had gone.
Tevi stopped and looked around, certain her memory was not at fault. Of course, she was not the same person as she had been. On her first visit to Kradja, she had been twenty years old, naïve and unsure, newly exiled from her island home for the crime of wanting another woman as a lover. In this, she was fortunate that she was the queen’s granddaughter. Someone of lower rank would more likely have been executed than exiled. The irony was that she had done no more than want—not as much as a kiss. The woman she had wanted was the one who had betrayed her.
With hindsight, events had not worked out badly. Tevi knew she was far more content on the mainland than she could ever have been on the Western Isles. In the Protectorate, nobody was the least bit bothered that her lover was female. They might think her a little perverse for only being interested in women, much as they would if she only wanted a lover whose favourite colour was blue, but since she was not in the process of seeking a new one, the issue was never raised.
The real problem upsetting so many was that her lover was a sorcerer. But Tevi was not about to change. People would just have to deal with being upset. Their problem, not hers. Tevi’s heart was fixed on Jemeryl, in a way that only deepened and strengthened with each passing year. Nothing but death was going to separate them for long, whatever Alendy might intend. Tevi glanced up at the spot on the balcony where she had seen Jemeryl the night before, and then carried on pacing the perimeter of the hall.
How best to proceed? Jemeryl was unharmed, but was she free to do as she wished? How safe was her position? In thinking it through, Tevi had come up with three scenarios. The first, and to Tevi’s mind, least likely, was that Jemeryl really had become a follower of Ciamon’s new religion. In this case, Jemeryl was perfectly happy and safe and in no need of rescuing. Urgent action was not called for. Once Tevi was sure of the situation, she could send an open message, and trust that when they met and talked, Jemeryl would be able to explain her reasons.
The second option was that Jemeryl was being forced to act in the way she was. In this case, charging in wildly would be very dangerous, regardless of whether it was physical threats or magical ensnarement that was dictating her behaviour. Before making a move, Tevi had to find out exactly what she was up against and how to get Jemeryl free, safely and without risk. Jemeryl was currently unhurt, and as long as Ciamon thought his hold on her was secure, she was in no immediate danger. Slow and cautious was the way to proceed.
The final option was that Jemeryl was pretending to support Ciamon as part of a plan. Tevi did not want to do anything to spoil the plan, which would certainly be the case if she tried to rescue Jemeryl, whether or not she succeeded. And, as with the previous two scenarios, if Jemeryl had hoodwinked Ciamon into believing her story, she was currently safe and in no need of a quick exit.
Tevi sighed. No matter what was going on, the first step had to be making contact with Jemeryl and finding what her situation was. This was where things got difficult. In fact, even slow, cautious progress might be a bit much to hope for.
Where would Ciamon be keeping Jemeryl? Certainly inside the temple complex. A Coven sorcerer was always an important guest and even as a prisoner, Ciamon would want Jemeryl near at hand. But how secure would it be? Tevi hoped her partner was not chained in a dungeon between main hall appearances, and not just because it would make getting to her harder. Thankfully, on the evidence of the night before, it looked as if Jemeryl was being numbered among Ciamon’s priests, and as such would get ordinary accommodation, albeit with a squad of guards outside the door and bars on the window.
Tevi stopped her pacing and again looked at the balcony where Jemeryl had stood. When Ciamon had finished describing the paradise Equalitus would bring about, blaming the Nolians for every ill that beset the world, and appealing for everyone to be nice to each other, he had returned to the balcony and left via a doorway at the end. The other priests, Jemeryl among them, had waited for Ciamon to pass and then followed him out. Tevi stared at the doorway, wondering what lay on the other side. However, she was sure she would not be allowed to wander through, and did not wish to draw attention to herself by trying.
Apart from the circle of guards ringing the idol, more were dotted around the main hall. Tevi had learnt that these red-cloaked soldiers were known as sentinels and had a reputation for piety, loyalty, and ruthlessness. They were the High Priest’s personal holy army. Two were standing sentry at the bottom of the stairs to the balcony. Getting into any sort of conflict with them would not be a good move.
Tevi continued pacing until she had completed her circuit of the main hall. From the doorway, she looked back across the floor. The golden idol in the middle dominated the space. Admittedly it was large, yet the effect was more than mere size could account for. Tevi frowned, realising that while her thoughts had been centred on Jemeryl, the idol had been scratching at the edges of her mind, calling to her. Raf claimed a force was at work in the temple. Was the idol more than just a symbol of the High Priest’s new god? What part did it play in his plan?
Tevi walked forward. With each step, the lure of the idol grew, first peace, then delight. Tevi stopped a stride away from ecstasy. Around her, worshippers stared at the idol in rapture. None were immune. Tevi was now close enough to see tears of joy running down the faces of the sentinels on guard. The idol was beautiful beyond words, filling her soul with love.
Tevi bowed her head, battling with conflicting emotions. It was insane to hold any idea of resisting the happiness, the fulfilment, the sense of being cared for. Who could do such a thing? Who would want to? And yet, Tevi had been subjected to magical entrapment before, enough to recognise the signs. Ciamon had cast a magical glamour on his idol, of that Tevi was sure. Anger at the barefaced manipulation drove back Tevi’s joy. Ciamon was a renegade from the Coven. If he had been caught indulging in tricks like this, no wonder he had needed to flee the Protectorate.
The thought loosened the last of the idol’s hold on her. Tevi backed away. Halfway to the door, she collided with another worshipper, a tall, heavily built young man.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where…” Even before Tevi had completed speaking, the man had wandered off.
Tevi turned to the door and then stopped, perplexed. Admittedly, the accident had been minor, but the man had not taken the few seconds required to accept her customary apology. He must be in a rush, yet he was not hurrying away. She watched him plod unswervingly across the floor.
Tevi frowned. Reading body language was something she was good at, and this man’s was all wrong. If he was heading for a specific destination, he should be striding with more determination; and if he was idly strolling through the temple, he should be more distracted by things around him. Moving in a straight line was completely at odds with his dawdle.
The main implication was that he had somewhere he wanted to go, but he did not want to make it obvious. It was also a safe deduction that he was an amateur when it came to subterfuge. Luckily for him, no one else appeared to have picked up on him. None of the red-cloaked sentinels were looking in his direction. So who was he, where was he going, and why was he trying to avoid detection? Displaying what she hoped was a higher degree of stealth, Tevi followed after.
A row of alcoves that had once housed shrines lined the rear of the temple under the balcony. One of these, deeper than the rest, was his goal. Tevi could see the tension in the man’s neck as he battled the temptation to look over his shoulder before disappearing into it. He was definitely up to something.
Tevi stopped by the adjacent opening, allowing enough time so it would not be apparent that she was in pursuit, although spending too long meditating on the empty altar, vacant niches and absence of offerings would in itself be suspicious. She had already noted how symbols of the previous plethora of gods had been removed. Why had it been necessary? Had Ciamon really needed to claim the entire temple? Did he know the sort of trouble he was stirring up? Sorcerer or not, would he be able to control the trouble, when it burst out?
The man had not re-emerged from the alcove after a full minute. What was he doing? Tevi moved on, and discovered that the opening was actually a corridor, which eventually broadened out into a round chamber. This room was also empty—even more so than Tevi had expected. The man she had followed was missing, and there were no doors or windows for him to have left by.
Tevi knew the man had not come out the same way he entered. Either he, like Ciamon, was still able to use magic, or there was a concealed exit. Logic said that if the man was capable of the magic needed to disappear, he could have become invisible before entering the temple and jogged across the main hall waving his hands, so a secret door was far more likely.
The temptation was strong to tap the walls, trying to detect a hollow spot, but Tevi had no way of knowing how far her quarry had gone. He might still be within hearing range. A secret way into the temple was exactly what she needed and she did not want to scare him off.
Tevi went back to the main hall. She picked a spot with a clear view of the alcove entrance and joined the adoring ring of worshippers around the idol. All she had to do was wait until she saw the man again, if not today, then tomorrow, or the day after. Despite her feeling of impatience, time was not critical.
Slow and cautious.
*
Midday had passed before the man reappeared. Fortunately, standing by the idol for so long did not count as unusual behaviour. The glamour was addictive. Tevi suspected the sentinels would have to forcibly eject people from the temple each night, sending them away to eat and sleep. The unpleasant image rose in Tevi’s mind of the idol in years to come, surrounded by the white bones of its entranced worshippers. She hoped the sentinels had the discipline to combat the lure. Did Ciamon know what he created? Did he care?
Tevi had spent much of the time speculating about the man she was waiting for. It was not safe to assume he was a potential ally. In the normal run of things, enough bad reasons existed to explain his actions. Thieves, assassins, and spies came to mind. Given the fanatical hothouse of Kradja, who knew what his motives were?
The man left the temple in the same ineptly mock-casual way he had entered. Tevi tailed him through the market with its rabid preachers and into the surrounding streets, where the façade of normality still held, but cracks were showing. Shops were open for business, craftsmen hammered, wove, and sharpened, customers haggled and hawkers called, but too many people sat idle in doorways, waiting for paradise to start. Tevi skirted around a disorderly procession of chanting, dancing believers. A couple caught her hands, urging her to join in. Tevi shrugged them off, but at least they were happy and well meaning. The small groups gathering on corners with the air of wild dogs were not so reassuring.
The man’s route took him to the poorer side of Kradja, not far from the Four Winds House. His visit to the temple had clearly been a strain on him, and now he was out, the relief caused him to act, ironically, in a more blatantly furtive way, repeatedly glancing back over his shoulder. However, his lack of focus and discipline meant that Tevi would have needed to be jumping up and down for him to have much chance of spotting her. He was clearly an amateur at spying, but this did not mean much. Thieves also start out as amateurs.
He looked three times up and down the street before ducking into a side alley. To judge from the way his anxiety had ratcheted up still higher, he was near his final goal. Tevi slipped from the doorway she had hidden in and reached the junction in time to see him knock on the door to a cellar and talk to whoever answered. He peered around frantically once more before disappearing from view.
Tevi carried on at a casual stroll while taking in the neighbourhood. The area was poor but reputable, the homes of labourers rather than lowlifes. The shops were grocers and butchers, not brothels. The building her quarry had entered looked to be the back of one such business. Tevi walked around to the front to see what she could learn.
A flour sack hung over the doorway, denoting a baker. The man had certainly not been delivering cakes to the priests, but was he a legitimate worker—the owner or an employee? As she passed the doorway, Tevi glanced in to see a conventional array of bread and pies on sale; everything seeming normal, but might the shop be a front for something more sinister?
Further along the road, a few old folk stood gossiping in a doorway, and a gang of young children were playing football at a point where the street widened out. At the sight of them, Tevi smiled—the best informants she could hope for.
Most children stopped playing as she approached, although two at the rear continued kicking the ball back and forth.
Tevi crouched and held up a couple of coins. “I wonder if you can tell me who owns that baker’s shop there.”
One child started to answer, before a friend pulled him back and whispered something in his ear. The words Tevi caught were in the language of the desert nomads. Her knowledge was too limited to understand what was said, even had the girl spoken loudly, but it was not necessary. From the way she was acting, the girl was obviously proposing that they trick the stranger.
“Tashde rah.” As far as Tevi could tell, the phrase was a forceful version of something like stop that. She had heard Siashe use it a dozen times on his horse, or anything else that annoyed him.
The effect on the children was immediate. The boy glared at the others behind him and then grinned contritely at Tevi. “It b
elongs to Aslie. She’s the baker. It used to be her uncle’s, but he’s got a new place near the market.”
“Do you know what she keeps in the cellar at the back?”
The boy wrinkled his nose. “Flour, I guess.”
The coins made a ringing sound as Tevi rubbed them together. “So, who would it be I saw going in there?”
“Her brother.”
“No, it’s not. It’s the ratman.” One of the children disagreed.
“Yes, it is. Aslie’s brother hides there ’cause he’s frightened of the idol in the temple.” The boy looked back at Tevi. “Him and his friends.”
“My dad said it was the ratman. Aslie’s got rats.”
“Your dad don’t know nothing.” A fight looked likely to break out.
Tevi intervened. “You said they’re frightened of the new idol.”
“Yeah.”
“No, they aren’t.” More dissent from another child. “They left ’cause they wouldn’t quit the old gods.”
Tevi again jumped in. “The old gods. Do Aslie’s brother and his friends still worship them?”
“I ’spect so.” The girl rubbed the side of her nose. “They used to be priests.”
Tevi smiled and tossed the coins into the air for the children to scramble after. They had not seemed utterly reliable, but what they said made sense. It stood to reason that the cast-out priests would not be happy, and who would be more likely to know about secret passages in the temple?
Tevi strolled back to the alleyway at the rear of the shop while considering her options. How best to make contact with the ousted priests? Listening at the door was unlikely to reveal much, and would not help gain their trust if she was caught. Sneaking in stood an even smaller chance of success. In fact, no form of subterfuge was likely to yield worthwhile results, which left her with just one option. Tevi knocked on the cellar door.
The High Priest and the Idol Page 8