The High Priest and the Idol

by Jane Fletcher

  “I thought as much.”

  “I’ll see if anyone has a kit I can borrow. I stitched up wounds a few times in Ekranos.” Jemeryl grimaced. “But not on a fully conscious patient.”

  “It’s all right. It won’t be the first time for me. As long as you feel up to doing it.”

  Jemeryl nodded. “I just wish I had more experience.”

  “You didn’t let lack of experience stop you waving the sword at the raiders. I told you to stay back.”

  “I couldn’t leave you alone.”

  “But you don’t know how to use it properly.”

  “It’s simple. I worked it out for myself. You stick the pointy bit in people.”

  Tevi laughed weakly. “Who were you calling to? There wasn’t anyone behind you.”

  “My imaginary army.” Jemeryl shrugged. “The gang didn’t want to call my bluff.”

  “You know, I wouldn’t swap you for Ciamon either.”

  *

  “I did warn you.” If Sefriall was making an effort not to gloat, she was failing.

  “You were right.” Ciamon sat hunched miserably in a window seat, looking out over Kradja.

  Jemeryl was the only other person present. On the journey back, Ciamon had frequently requested her company, as if needing the reassurance of a link to his former life, but he had persisted in his irrational aversion to Tevi. They had arrived in Kradja less than an hour earlier, and Tevi was currently having her wound seen to by such healers as were available. Yet even if she had been free, Ciamon would not have allowed Tevi in the room. Jemeryl had no backup in challenging Sefriall’s manipulation of the facts. Not that it mattered. Experience told her she had no chance of success.

  Yet, Jemeryl felt she had to try. “As I recall, you didn’t warn about an ambush. The sentinels you wanted Ci to take were to intimidate the master merchants of Villenes.”

  “They still would have kept the High Priest safe from attack.”

  “As long as too many of them didn’t decide to slit their comrades’ throats.”

  “Yes.” Sefriall drew the word out, looking pensive. “I regret that one of the sentinels turned out to be in the pay of the master merchants.”

  “Why are you so sure it was the master merchants?”

  “Who else would it be? Their aim was certainly not simple theft.”

  “I heard one say the name Toqwani. Doesn’t that make it more likely the dissident priests were the ones behind it again?”

  Sefriall shook her head. “I know my old associates. They were clerics, not soldiers. If you gave them a sword, they’d only cut their fingers on it. That’s if they could muster the strength to pick it up.”

  Ciamon had been playing no part in the debate. At the use of the word sword, he cowered even further into the seat. The conversation was clearly painful to him. Now he stepped in. “It doesn’t matter who was behind the attack. Sefriall was right. I should have had an army with me. Next time, I will.”

  Sefriall beamed. “If I might make a suggestion, why not make it a people’s army? Rather than just soldiers, take along a host of ordinary people. When the folk of Villenes are able to talk to people like themselves and see their joy, surely it will sway their hearts.”

  “Yes. That’s a great idea.” Something of Ciamon’s old smile returned.

  “The logistics will be horrendous. How will you feed that many in the desert?” Jemeryl objected.

  “It will require planning. But I feel I’m up to the task. If you’re agreed, I’ll set affairs in motion. In fifteen days we’ll be ready to leave.” Sefriall bowed and backed out.

  Jemeryl dropped onto the seat opposite Ciamon. “Are you sure about this, Ci?”

  “Yes. What happened at the oasis has made me see even more how important it is. Do you realise what we’ve done to the world?”

  “We…What?”

  “That evening, just before the attack, I was talking to…T…your partner.” Ciamon was clearly having trouble with her name.

  “Tevi.”

  “Yes. She told me about her home islands. Their whole culture, corrupted by us.”

  “Us? How?”

  “Yes. Don’t you see? Fighting. Killing people.”

  “There aren’t any sorcerers on the islands. I’ve been there. It’s a sixth-dimensional sinkhole.”

  “War is a consequence of magic. Throughout history, it’s always been sorcerers who start them.”

  “That’s because it’s only been sorcerers with the power to do it.”

  Ciamon was not listening. “How many millions have died? When we value the life of an ungifted person so little, is it surprising if they don’t value it themself?”

  “I don’t think your logic follows.” Jemeryl might as well have spoken to the wall.

  “Your partner’s people, in permanent warfare, mimicking us and the way we act. Making artificial distinctions between people and pretending they’re as important as magic. When I saw her, covered in blood and the sword in her hand, I realised what an awful thing we’ve unleashed on the world. That’s why the Coven has to go.”

  Jemeryl sank back in her chair, realising that arguing with him would be an utter waste of breath. For Ciamon, his mission had become more important than the truth. It had become the truth. No matter what she said, he would start with what he already believed, use those beliefs to interpret any information he received, and then cite the resulting twisted facts to prove he had been right all along.

  Ciamon was beyond reason.

  Chapter Eight—Sunset in Villenes

  Villenes lay half a mile distant, at the confluence of two rivers. Ciamon’s army lined the hilltops where the ground rose to the south, overlooking the town. Far to the north, the rolling Merlieu Hills crossed the horizon, marking the end of the Aldrak mountain chain. The late afternoon sun was obscured by a haze of cloud, the first Jemeryl had seen for months. Despite the reduced light, the green fields and orchards surrounding the town seemed strangely lurid after days spent crossing the parched desert.

  In the centre of the army, Jemeryl stood a little behind Ciamon and his chosen elite—or rather the inner circle Sefriall had chosen for him. Facing them was a delegation of master merchants, a dozen middle-aged traders, their faces showing a mixture of fear and anger. At Ciamon’s order, everyone was on foot, a symbol of the new equality. He had even left off his white robes.

  Jemeryl glanced over her shoulder. A few feet away, Tevi was flanked by a squad of red-cloaked sentinels. The holy warriors stood in loosely formed ranks. Even to Jemeryl’s untrained eyes they lacked proper martial discipline and order. Away from the centre, the people’s army lost all military overtones and degenerated into an agitated mob.

  She sidled closer to Tevi and whispered, “How do you think it’s going to go?”

  “Badly.”

  “Who for?”

  “Everyone.”

  Jemeryl chewed her lip, wishing Tevi’s judgement did not so closely match her own.

  Ciamon advanced a few steps clear of his supporters. “People of Villenes, we have come to share the good news about the overthrow of tyranny. By the power of Equalitus the world will enter a new age of peace, love, and justice for all.”

  The merchants exchanged hard looks with each other, but said nothing.

  “This is a glorious day for you. This is the day when you will enter the embrace of Equalitus and learn of the joy of true freedom and fraternity.”

  At the forefront of the merchant delegation was a heavily built elderly man. Judging by the encouraging nods the others were giving him, Jemeryl guessed he was their chosen spokesman. Now, he took a half step forward. “What if we said we weren’t buying?”

  Ciamon frowned. “Pardon?”

  “We’re happy with the way things are now. We’re not interested in your fancy rhetoric.”

  “You don’t understand what you’re saying. What you have now is only a shadow of what will be yours. I’ve come to open your eyes to the truth.”

&n
bsp; “I think our eyes are open wide enough. We can see what you’re offering, and we don’t want it.”

  “You have no option. The emanation of Equalitus has washed over you. The world is changing. Accept it and join us.”

  “We know it’s changing. The witches in town have lost their powers.”

  “So rejoice.”

  The merchant spokesman looked outraged. “Rejoice? What are we going to do if blight hits in spring? Supposing we have a drought. What’ll we do without weather witches?”

  Another merchant could stay quiet no longer. “What about the healers? My cousin’s newborn died ten days ago, and the healers could do nothing to save her.”

  Ciamon held up his hands. “I know the transition period will have problems, but believe me, when the curse of magic is gone from the world, we can solve these issues. Nothing is impossible if we all work together.”

  “Well, before you get us to sign up for your wonderful new world, how about if you give some practical ideas for how to make it rain?” Anger was clearly displacing fear in the merchants.

  Sefriall moved up to Ciamon’s shoulder. “Of course, drought might affect your profits, and that’s all you care about. You value money more than your souls.”

  “Money buys food. You can’t eat idealistic claptrap.”

  “Money buys power. That’s what worries you, isn’t it? You don’t want to give up your power over this town.”

  “In the embrace of Equalitus, no one will have power over another.” Ciamon was ignored by both Sefriall and the merchants.

  The spokesman squared up to Sefriall. “Don’t act so noble. You’re the one who’s after power. You don’t last in business as long as I have without learning how to spot people like you. Don’t think we can’t see through all the rubbish about gods.”

  “The power is not for myself but for the glory of my god.”

  “We’ve heard all that before as well. It’s never for yourself, is it? Never because you’re a ruthless, self-serving bastard.”

  “There will be an end to strife. Don’t ape the intolerance of—” Ciamon was drowned out.

  “I’m a faithful servant of my god. You are false unbelievers, corrupters of the truth.” Sefriall’s voice was rising in ardour and volume.

  “Servant of your god? You’re just a damned bunch of crooks. Your god’s complete bullshit.”

  A crossbow bolt hissed through the air and embedded itself in the spokesman’s chest.

  Shouts rose on both sides as the man crumpled over and hit the ground. Loudest of all was Sefriall. “They insult Equalitus and the High Priest. They have turned their back on righteousness. They have condemned themselves.”

  Bellows from the sentinels reached a crescendo. Few would have heard Ciamon’s moan. “No. Don’t. It’s not supposed to…” Jemeryl only caught it because she was close and knew his voice so well.

  The remaining merchants were staring in horror at their fallen associate. A couple still shouted at Sefriall, but then a woman at the rear took a backwards step, turned, and ran. It was like pulling the stopper from a barrel. In an escalating rush, the other merchants streamed after her. The torrent did not end there. The sight of the merchants’ backs as they ran away sucked in the army. With a roar, the sentinels surged forward, dogs after a hare.

  Jemeryl was buffeted aside as the soldiers pounded past, their eyes locked on their prey, the fleeing merchants and the town of Villenes beyond. She fought to maintain her footing. If she fell she would get trampled. A harder shove sent her reeling but then a firm hand grasped her arm, holding her steady.

  “You all right?” Tevi’s shout was almost inaudible over the bedlam.

  Jemeryl just nodded in reply.

  Within minutes, the crowd around them thinned, allowing a clear view across the hillside. Everywhere, the people’s army was pouring down the slope, descending on Villenes. The bodies of the delegation lay where they had been cut down, scattered on the grass in a ragged line leading to the town. The elderly master merchants had not been able to outrun the soldiers.

  A confused cluster of sentinels and priests huddled nearby, the only ones apart from Jemeryl and Tevi who were not charging towards the town. Ciamon’s voice came indistinctly from somewhere in the middle of the knot. Jemeryl squeezed her way through to his side.

  Ciamon knelt on the ground, sobbing over the body of the spokesman. “It’s magic. It has to be. It’s the Coven. They’ve done this somehow.”

  Jemeryl crouched beside him. “No. It’s not.”

  “That’s what you would say. Was this why they sent you? To make this happen?”

  “Of course not.” Jemeryl caught his hand. “Come on, Ci. You know me and you know I wouldn’t do it, even if I could.”

  “Sefriall. She was provoking them. Making it worse. Is she working for the Coven?”

  “The Coven has nothing to do with this.”

  “But why did they kill him? There was no reason.”

  “He insulted your god.” Tevi’s voice was implacable at Jemeryl’s shoulder.

  “That’s just…just a story. Nobody would kill someone over it.”

  “Nolians have already been murdered in Kradja.”

  Ciamon shook his head frantically. “No. I ordered them not to. They weren’t supposed to take it that way. Nolius is playing such an important role for me. When I saw his shrine and heard what his followers believed, it just seemed like…like…”

  “Like it wouldn’t matter if you blamed them for all the evil in the world?”

  “You’re saying it’s my fault? I’m responsible for their deaths?”

  “The people who did the killing are the ones responsible. You just gave them an excuse.”

  “No—no. It is all my fault.” Ciamon looked as if he had been hit by a sudden revelation. “I should have realised the ungifted would be more susceptible to emotion. I simply didn’t think they’d react so strongly. But I should have known their minds aren’t as capable of reason as ours.”

  Tevi looked sick with disgust, and clearly could not bring herself to say more.

  Ciamon brushed the hair back from the spokesman’s forehead and then stared at the town. “What do we do?”

  Was Ciamon finally ready to listen? Jemeryl gripped his shoulder. “We can put a stop to it. Go back to Kradja and destroy the emanator that creates the morphology.”

  “What will happen here?”

  “There’s nothing you can do.”

  “No. There has to be something. I’ll take my share of the blame.” Ciamon’s expression hardened. “I’ll stop it here and now. I’ll tell them Equalitus doesn’t want them to fight.”

  Ciamon lurched to his feet, but before he could move, Tevi grabbed his arm. “Jem’s right. It’s too late for that. There’s nothing you can do here.”

  “You’ve been corrupted. It’s not your fault, but you don’t see how awful violence is. I have to do something.” He looked at the sentinels. “Keep these two here. Don’t let them stop me.”

  Immediately, hands grabbed Jemeryl from behind, pulling her back and pinning her arms to her side. At first she struggled, but then the cold touch of metal at her throat made her freeze. “Tevi!”

  His followers had managed to free Ciamon from Tevi’s grip but she was still fighting them. At Jemeryl’s shout she looked over and immediately raised her hands in surrender. Ciamon was already a dozen yards away, sprinting down the hillside.

  Tevi and Jemeryl were released once Ciamon was nearly at the town and it was clear that they were going to offer no further resistance. They settled down side by side on the grass to watch, helplessly. The priests had also departed for Villenes, leaving just the eight sentinel guards. Apart from this group, the entire army had entered the town. Already smoke was rising from a dozen locations.

  “Looks like the divinely sanctioned looting has started.”

  “The people here will lose everything.” Jemeryl was horrified at what was happening before her.

  “We
ll, those with any sense will have packed their bags and fled before the army got here. But some will have hung on, so there’ll still be plenty to loot—except by people who are standing on the hillside watching.”

  Tevi’s words had an immediate impact on the sentinels. They muttered among themselves and became more animated.

  “Captain. How long we gonna stand here?” One finally asked the question.

  “You heard the High Priest’s order.”

  “Yeah, but he said we had to make sure they didn’t stop him. But he got to town ages ago, so they can’t stop him now, can they?”

  More mumbling indicated a high level of agreement with the speaker. Already, three sentinels were detaching themselves from the squad, edging down the hillside. The captain would soon be facing a mutiny and he wisely decided to give in. “Right. You can all go now.” He nodded at Jemeryl and Tevi. “You too.”

  Half of the squad had already gone, racing towards the town. The rest were not far behind. The captain himself was not hanging around.

  Jemeryl scrambled to her feet and was about to follow, but then stopped, realising Tevi had stayed sitting. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We have to find Ci.”

  “Why?”

  “He might get hurt.”

  “Then he’ll have plenty of company in the infirmary, if he’s lucky enough to end up there rather than the graveyard.”

  “Tevi, we need him to tell us how to destroy the emanator.”

  “That’s if he knows.”

  “He does. Remember by the oasis, before the bandit attack. I asked if he’d destroy the emanator if everyone asked him and he said yes. Therefore he knows its weakness.”

  Tevi sighed and pushed herself to her feet. “All right. But watch out. It’s going to be dangerous in there, and it might already be too late to help him.”

  Even before they reached the first buildings, the acrid smell of smoke was rasping at Jemeryl’s throat. Heavy plumes of brown and grey trailed across the streets. The crackling of fire came from all around, a constant undertone to the shouts and screams filling the air.