Dusk was settling over the town. In the fading light, the mood on the streets was jittery. Groups were huddled everywhere, talking, their faces showing anger, disbelief and fear. Tevi and Jemeryl skirted the edge of a tense noisy crowd listening to a ranting preacher. The rhetoric was even more violent than normal—if anything in Kradja under Sefriall could count as normal. A chorus of shouts from a few streets away sounded like a riot. Tevi pitied whoever the bitter mob had picked on as its victim.
Patrols of sentinels were also in evidence, marching belligerently down the centre of roads, shoving the crowds aside. From time to time they would single out someone to be searched, beaten, or hauled away. Tevi could see no pattern to the individuals selected for this treatment; probably there was none. Sefriall’s soldiers merely wanted to intimidate with a show of taking action.
Fortunately, the sentinels made no attempt to stop Tevi and Jemeryl as they shuffled across town, their pace deliberately slow and indecisive. If the sentinels were on the lookout for anything, it would be people fleeing, not those with time to kill.
When they got to the Calequiral mansion, they found a similar state of anxious upheaval. Tevi and Jemeryl slunk in through the open gateway. The people gathered in the garden looked ready to erupt without warning, and either a panicked stampede or a lynch mob was equally likely.
Just inside the door of the mansion, an elderly woman was standing alone, swaying back and forth as if in time to an unheard dirge.
“Excuse me.”
The woman stared in Tevi’s direction but her eyes did not focus. “What?”
“Is there any space in here? My sister and me. We got here yesterday. Spent last night by the market, but the idol…it’s…” Tevi nervously looked back through the garden. “We don’t want to stay out there. Especially after what happen to my sister’s arm.”
The woman went back to her swaying, but just when Tevi thought the request was to go unanswered, she said, “Second floor, at the end of the hall. The people there were weak in their faith. We dealt with them. Now it’s free.”
“Thank you.”
The spot turned out to be a recess beneath a smashed window, the draught of cold night air making it less popular. However, it gave Tevi and Jemeryl the excuse to huddle together closely. The rest of the hall was a carpet of bodies. Darkness fell, but their fellow squatters were not about to sleep. Tevi and Jemeryl lay, listening to the ardent voices.
“They attacked the idol.”
“It’s sacrilege.”
“How dare they defile a holy shrine?”
Jemeryl put her mouth close to Tevi’s ear. “The nomads would agree with them there.”
“Toqwani is angry.” The speaker’s voice held a sob.
“We’ve lost his love.”
“Sefriall said if we work to please the gods, they may restore the blessing on the idol. She’s going to tell us what we need to do to get back in the gods’ favour.”
“I bet she is,” Jemeryl whispered again.
The voices down the hallway went on. “Sefriall has said the attackers were Nolians, working in the pay of the Coven. Sorcerers only get their powers by making blood sacrifices to Nolius.”
“He’s the god of evil.”
Tevi wrapped her arms around Jemeryl and murmured, “Sefriall is getting as good at the religious bullshit as ever Ciamon was.”
“Oh, I think she’s far better at it. She’s had longer to practice.”
Chapter Twelve—Behind the Temple
Even with Tevi’s assistance, clambering onto the roof of the Calequiral mansion required a bit of effort and a good head for heights. Jemeryl found the manœuvre all the more awkward since she had to maintain the fiction of her broken arm. She was tempted to question Tevi’s choice of location. However, when they finally reached a flatter spot, where she could sit comfortably and feel reasonably secure, Jemeryl had to admit the rooftop perch had three big points to recommend it. The view over the roofs of Kradja was impressive, showing off the huge dome of the temple to its best effect. The second was a delightful cool breeze rippling by, surprisingly clear of noise, dust, and the odour of the streets. The most important reason, though, was the complete absence of risk of them being overheard.
“I can’t believe what Ci’s done. I never thought he had it in him.” Jemeryl’s mind had been running into the same incredulous block all night, keeping her from sleep. “He wasn’t that good a sorcerer.”
Tevi frowned and rubbed her neck. “I don’t understand magic—obviously. So in terms I do understand, if you compare their abilities, Weilan’s pentagrams not being able to punch through Ciamon’s defence is a bit like a strong, well-armed warrior getting into a fight with a three-year-old toddler and losing?”
“Precisely.”
“So there’s only one way Ciamon could have done it. He cheated.”
“You can’t cheat at magic.”
“You can always cheat.”
“Would you like to explain how?”
Tevi stared over the rooftops, clearly pondering the question. Jemeryl studied her lover’s face in profile. The challenge had not been delivered cynically. Without magical ability or Coven training, Tevi could approach problems, unencumbered by preconceived ideas. Sometimes her fresh perspective could be very effective at providing a breakthrough. Jemeryl smiled. Even if Tevi could suggest nothing this time, looking at her was a pleasant way to spend a few minutes. The black hair and grey eyes really did suit her best.
Tevi’s expression sharpened. Clearly she had thought of something. “The glamour went, so we know the pentagrams worked.”
“Right.”
“More than that, we know they overcame any defences Ciamon put on the idol.”
“No. Because the emanator is still projecting the morphology.”
“Surely whatever spells were protecting the emanator would have protected the glamour as well.”
Jemeryl paused, mulling it over. “When you put it like that, yes. I’d have thought so. But—”
“So the only sensible conclusion is that the emanator isn’t in the idol. Ciamon put it somewhere else.”
“He said it was there.”
“Then he lied.”
Jemeryl shook her head. “Ci never liked lying.”
“He may not have liked it, but he’d do it for what he believed in. Like all that stuff about his new god.”
“I don’t think he saw that as a lie. It was just an allegorical story.”
“Then he was getting allegorical about the emanator being in the idol.”
“I don’t—” Jemeryl stopped as a memory slipped into her head.
“What is it, Jem? You’re thinking. I can tell.”
“Way back. When Ci was first telling me about the morphology. We were standing on the balcony at the back of the main hall, overlooking the worshippers and the idol. That was when he boasted the Coven wouldn’t be able to destroy the emanator, no matter what they did to the idol.”
“Which would make sense if the emanator wasn’t in the idol.”
“Right. And while he was speaking, he wandered away and stared out a window. His voice grew in confidence. He was so sure. That was what made the impression on me—why I remember it so clearly. Something about the way he stopped looking at the idol and went to the window, as if he was making a point.”
“In what way?”
“At the time, I assumed it was defiance. Him looking towards Lyremouth. But now I think back, I’m sure we were on the south side of the temple. So it would have been the wrong direction.” Jemeryl stopped, chewing her lip. Was she truly so sure?
“You think he was looking at wherever the emanator really was?”
“Maybe.” Jemeryl sighed. “It’s not a lot to go on.”
“At the moment, it’s the best lead we have.”
“Where does it get us?”
“For starters, we can go to the temple, and see if we can work out what Ciamon was looking at.”
Jemeryl
sat, shoulders slumped, staring at the tiled roof between her feet while she pushed the memory around in her head. She knew at the time, the idea had not occurred to her that Ciamon might be looking at the real home of the emanator. How much faith could she put in the possibility now? Was she deluding herself, by imagining things with hindsight?
“It might be a waste of time.”
Tevi slid closer and slipped her arm around Jemeryl’s waist. “We don’t have much in the way of options. We can check out the temple, or we can go back to Lyremouth.” Tevi’s arm tightened in a way that felt more like a spasm than a hug.
“What is it?”
“If we go, it means we’ve abandoned everyone. Maybe Sefriall will wait two days before she has Darjain and the others hanged, but she won’t wait two months. For any hope of saving them, we need to do something now. And it won’t just be them. If we can’t stop the morphology, it will be down to the mercenaries and any magical weapons the Coven has made. Tens of thousands will die.”
Tevi was right. The alternative was not good. “When you put it like that…”
“It’s not as if we have anything to lose by checking out the idea.”
Jemeryl nodded. “True. I guess we ought to call by the temple anyway and add our tears to the general outpouring.”
Currently, every believer in Kradja was squeezing into the temple to beg for forgiveness and the return of the god’s favour. Purely to keep up their cover, they ought to go.
Tevi grinned. “We’ll have a wail of a time.”
*
If there should be a competition for histrionics in the temple, Jemeryl did not envy whoever got the job of judge. So many were putting so much effort into their entreaties. Did pulling out your hair by the roots rank above kneeling and banging your head on the stone floor? Did you get more points for screaming or knocking yourself out? Fortunately, merely standing dumbstruck with grief was acceptable form, so she and Tevi did not need to indulge in self-mutilation to preserve their disguise.
The main hall was crammed full, to the extent that finding a space to talk without being overheard was impossible. Jemeryl was wondering if they should wait until getting outside before swapping notes when Tevi sniffed, wiped her eyes, and then crumpled onto her shoulder. Jemeryl could feel Tevi’s body shaking, as if with sobs. The posture meant Tevi’s mouth was less than an inch from her ear when she whispered, “Can you remember where you were standing?”
“Yup.” It was play-acting time. Jemeryl patted Tevi’s back in a gesture of soft sympathy with her free arm. The other was in its sling. “More or less.”
The image was clear in Jemeryl’s mind, of standing on the balcony with Ciamon and looking down on the idol. She could envisage the angle it was at and its relation to the main doors. If only she could go back to the balcony, she would have no trouble pinpointing the exact spot where she had stood. Unfortunately, getting access to the balcony was the tricky bit. Six sentinels guarded the staircase leading to it, and asking if she could pop up for a quick look was not a good idea.
Jemeryl patted Tevi’s back again. “Come on, sister. Let’s walk for a little.”
Aimless milling around was another acceptable form of behaviour for the distraught worshippers. Nobody paid Jemeryl any attention when she reached the rear of the hall and started drifting back and forth until she had the idol in its right alignment.
Jemeryl pulled Tevi into a one-armed sisterly embrace. “There. I think I was standing directly above this spot. Then Ci turned and went to the window a little to my right.”
Tevi broke away and stared up, hands raised in a gesture of earnest appeal to the heavens. After a few seconds in this dramatic pose she again collapsed around Jemeryl’s neck.
“We’re too close. I can’t see the windows. The balcony’s in the way.”
Jemeryl looked across the hall, running a line of sight from where she was through the idol, under the high point of an arch, to a rack of lighted candles on the far side.
“We should move on.”
Tevi released her hold and nodded, the picture of inconsolable misery. Jemeryl was struck by the memory of how Tevi had been when they first met, so honest and guileless it was almost painful to watch. Back then, Jemeryl had been the one who enjoyed the games of subterfuge. Somewhere over the years, Tevi had become a competent actress. Had she corrupted her lover, Jemeryl wondered, or was the change due to Tevi’s experience and maturity?
They continued shuffling around the perimeter of the hall, avoiding several people who were lying sobbing on the floor, and making a major detour around a group of flagellants, most of whom seemed to realise that they were supposed to be hitting themselves, although a couple did not appear quite so choosy.
At last they reached the rack of candles. Jemeryl looked across the crowded hall. From where they now stood, she had a clear view of the balcony and the row of arches that formed its outer wall, each one with a window.
Tevi was behind her and obviously making her own calculations. She wrapped her arms around Jemeryl’s stomach, pulled her close, and whispered, “Was it the sixth or seventh window from the right?”
Jemeryl turned her head. “The sixth, I think. But just maybe the other one.”
“Still cuts out a lot of angles.” Tevi raised her voice. “I need some fresh air. We can come back soon.”
“Of course, sister.”
After the frenzied atmosphere of the temple, the streets felt calm, sane, and safe. Jemeryl had to remind herself that this was a dangerous illusion. Nowhere in Kradja was safe and violence could break out at any time. More than this, Sefriall’s spies and informers would still be around. Inside the temple any sort of odd behaviour was acceptable. Out here, they needed to be more guarded in their actions, although with more space, they did not need to go to the same theatrical lengths to avoid being overheard.
Jemeryl looked at the outer wall of the great hall. After a few moments to orient herself, she identified the row of windows behind the balcony. “I can see the outside of the sixth arch, but not the actual window. So someone there couldn’t see us.”
Tevi nodded. “We’ll just walk on a bit and see what sort of angle of vision the window does have.”
“It would be a lot easier if I could go up to the balcony and look out.”
“It would be even easier if Sefriall wandered up and handed me the emanator and a large hammer. When you’re wishing for what you can’t have there’s no point in half-measures.”
Jemeryl laughed. “True.”
They soon discovered that the deeply inset window had a surprisingly restricted field of view. However, this still took in a large slice of Kradja, extending to the most distant houses on the outskirts of town.
Tevi pouted at the window. “So, we can cut the options down to a couple hundred houses.”
“I think we can do a lot better than that.”
“How?”
“Ciamon would have wanted the emanator near at hand. Regardless of whether he could do anything to protect it, knowing he could get to it within minutes would have made him feel safer.”
“I’ll take your word on it. You’re the one who knew him.”
Jemeryl stared sadly at the window, remembering Ciamon. Had he changed over the years? Had he truly been the same person as the one she had known? The boy she had once loved? Jemeryl lowered her gaze, pushing her thoughts on. Brooding about the past could wait.
The path leading to the front of the temple was lined with gardens and tranquil courtyards to impress the arriving pilgrims. The rear was the business side, where a number of support buildings stood. Sentinels patrolled the area, and Jemeryl was aware they were already attracting a few suspicious looks. The attention was not pointed enough to be worrying—many pilgrims would stop and gape in awe at the temple—but standing for too long in any one spot was unwise.
“Do you think we can wander around here without the sentinels stopping us?”
The deafening peal of the midday bell drowne
d out Tevi’s first answer. She stared at the source for a few seconds and then lowered her mouth to Jemeryl’s ear. “Possibly. There’s enough ordinary tradesfolk around, but I’ve got a better idea.”
Jemeryl followed Tevi’s gaze upwards. The square bell tower soared above the surrounding buildings. The bell itself was just visible through the open windows at the top, swinging back and forth. A flock of agitated pigeons swirled around the red tiled roof, black dots against the blue sky, waiting for peace to return to their roost.
The final peal faded away as Tevi and Jemeryl approached the base of the tower and the door opened. Tevi hailed the departing bell ringer. “Please. We would beg a favour of you.”
The woman’s sour look was not promising. “What is it?”
“My sister wants to pray for the return of the god’s blessing.”
“Her and the rest of Kradja.”
Tevi dropped her voice to a level appropriate to confidential entreaty. “She’s got this idea if she can get closer to the blessed Ciamon, she stands more chance of her prayers being heard.”
The bell ringer’s expression implied that as far as stupid religious quirks went, this did not even have the virtue of being funny. “So?”
“You know he ascended into the sky?”
“Yeah.”
“I just wondered if it’d be possible for us to climb up your bell tower.”
“I don’t—”
Tevi moved closer to the woman, dropping her voice still lower, so that Jemeryl could no longer make out what was said, but she saw a few coins change hands.
The bell ringer pocketed the money and gave Jemeryl a look, halfway between pity and a sneer. “May your prayers be answered. Shut the door when you’ve finished.” She trudged away.
The inside of the bell tower was dank and smelly. The wooden ladder up was covered in pigeon droppings. Jemeryl peered at it dubiously. “Is it safe?”
Tevi knocked on a rung. “Seems sound enough.”
“Do you want to go up and tell me what you can see?”
“Come on. Four eyes are better than two. You might spot something I miss.”
The High Priest and the Idol Page 24