The High Priest and the Idol

by Jane Fletcher

  The door was locked. Tevi could not be bothered with finding the key. She kicked hard, splintering the flimsy wood. The cell was too dark to make out details, although Tevi was sure more than one person was inside. Tevi looked over her shoulder. Jemeryl was still standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring around in horror.

  “Jem. I need some light here.”

  “I ca…” Jemeryl swallowed visibly, grimacing as if fighting down nausea, before stumbling over to join Tevi.

  Two filthy, naked figures were huddled in the cell, one male, one female. The man lay unmoving, curled on his side. The other shrank into the corner, knees up and face buried in her hands. Neither was young enough to be one of the Coven sorcerers.

  Tevi knelt beside the woman and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She was the one who had been whimpering. “I don’t know if you know me. But my name’s Tevi. I’m here to rescue you.”

  The woman let her hands fall. It was Botha, the priest of Nolius. A stab of guilt cut through to Tevi’s heart. She had led Botha here, with promises of victory, and then abandoned her to this. The sudden expression of joy that flooded Botha’s face only twisted the knife.

  “You’re really…oh…thank you.” Tears flowed from the old woman’s eyes. She clumsily grasped Tevi’s hand.

  Tevi could not speak as she tallied up the bruises and burns, the missing and mangled fingertips, the raw, open cuts on the old woman’s body.

  Jemeryl was by the other figure. “It’s Darjain.”

  “Is he alive?”

  “Yes. Just. He’s been—” Jemeryl was breathing hard, clearly struggling with her self-control. “I’ll find some clothes. And check the other cell.”

  “Leave us some light.”

  “Yes. Sure.” Jemeryl backed away.

  Botha was curled sobbing over Tevi’s hands, still clutching them like a lifeline, though her grip was weak. Tevi stroked her hair. “Why did Sefriall do this? What was she after?”

  “She thought we knew where you were. That we were all working for the Coven. She wanted to know your plans. She wouldn’t believe…she wouldn’t…” Botha’s sobs drowned out her words.

  A soft cry came from Jemeryl in the next cell. Tevi had not heard her enter. Presumably the sorcerer had used magic rather than her foot to open the door.

  “What is it?”

  “Larric. Ashkin…” Jemeryl could not finish.

  “How are they?”

  “Dead. Both of them.”

  “Sefriall started with them,” Botha whispered. “They told her about the morphology and the idol, but it made no sense to her…the skein, perceptual bars, things like that. Sefriall was convinced the Coven was planing a profane ritual to get its power back. She wanted to know how to stop it and how to undo the magic spell they’d cast on the idol.”

  “But you and Darjain? You wouldn’t have known anything.”

  “Darjain was leader of the priests. She thought he’d be the one in contact with the gods, and Yalaish was the god who worried her most. She wouldn’t believe him. But me…” Botha shuddered. “Me, she didn’t care about. That’s why she left me to last. That’s why I’m still…”

  “Alkoan?”

  “He was a Cyclian priest. One of hers. She didn’t think he’d have anything to do with Yalaish so she had him hanged the morning after we were captured.”

  Jemeryl returned to the cell. “There’s nothing in here I’d want to touch. I’ll look upstairs. There’ll be clean robes in the temple, even if I have to take them off a priest’s back.”

  Tevi nodded. “I’ll meet you in the room above.” She looked at Botha. “Do you think you can walk?”

  “If I lean on you.”

  Tevi shuffled over to Darjain. He appeared unconscious, but as she cradled him in her arms his face contorted in pain. “Jem. Can you do something? He’s awake.”

  Jemeryl had been leaving. Now she returned. “I can make sure he sleeps.”

  “Do it.”

  Darjain patted Tevi’s arm. “Who…who is it?”

  Tevi knew he could not see her. He would never see anything again. Both his eyes were missing. “It’s Tevi. I’m taking you to the infirmary. The magic has returned. The healer will be able to help you.”

  Jemeryl held her hand over his forehead. Her fingers moved in an intricate dance.

  “It’s too late. But I know…I know…” Darjain’s voice was fading, although his lips still moved. He wanted to say something.

  Tevi lowered her head. “What is it?”

  “I know why Yalaish weeps.”

  *

  In their twelve years together, Jemeryl had never seen Tevi so crazed with anger. After leaving the two tortured priests in Zorathe’s care, Tevi stormed straight back to the temple. Jemeryl struggled along behind, trying to keep up, although for her part, she would have chosen never to set foot in the building again. The remembered horror of the cellar made her feel physically sick.

  In fact, going anywhere would not have ranked high among Jemeryl’s choice of activities. She knew she was walking with a pronounced limp. The arrow wound was not quite as trivial as she had tried to make out. Despite her best efforts, she could not totally block the dull ache or the tingling darts up her thigh. Yet the discomfort did not bother her as much as the fact that Tevi seemed not to notice, or care. None of her requests to slow down were answered.

  By the time they reached the balcony at the rear of the great hall, Jemeryl could take no more. She locked the exit using magic. Tevi tugged violently at the handle and then backed up, as if preparing to kick the door down. The delay gave Jemeryl the opportunity to put a hand on Tevi’s arm and claim her attention.

  “Tevi. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to find Sefriall and I’m going to kill her.”

  “Just like that? In cold blood?”

  “My blood is plenty hot enough.”

  “What will it achieve?”

  Tevi’s face furrowed in disbelief. “You ask that? You saw Darjain and Botha.”

  “How will killing Sefriall help them?”

  “It’ll make sure she never does the same to anyone else.”

  “She did it because she was in power and she thought they might stop her plans. Now the morphology has gone, so has her power. Her plans are ruined. She’ll never have to do anything like that again.”

  “You think she had to do it this time? And who knows what she’ll think is necessary in the future?” Tevi scowled. “A sword in her heart will make sure of it.”

  “There’s been too much violence already. More won’t make anything better,” Jemeryl pleaded.

  Tevi’s face was implacable. Without answering, she turned back to the door. “Is it you, keeping the door shut?”

  “Yes. I’m…I just wanted to talk, and you wouldn’t wait.” Jemeryl released the door. Regardless of how much she disagreed with Tevi, Jemeryl would not use magic to stop her. They could argue with each other, but the use of force, either physical or magical, would attack the bedrock of trust in their relationship.

  Tevi wrenched the door open and marched on, single-minded. Priests, servants, and sentinels scattered before her. Jemeryl caught the whispered comments as they passed.

  “The Coven is here. A hundred sorcerers.”

  “They’re going to destroy the town.”

  “Why have the gods deserted us?”

  For all the notice Tevi gave them, they might not have been there. Only the lone brave sentinel who tried to stop her entering the High Priest’s quarters got her attention, and that was merely for the two seconds it took Tevi to knock him senseless. Jemeryl hesitated by the crumpled form. Should she find someone to carry him to the infirmary? Screams from the inside the door made up her mind. She might not be able to affect Tevi’s actions, but she had to try.

  Panic-stricken servants fled from Tevi’s angry advance through the High Priest’s quarters. Jemeryl hobbled after as quickly as she could and caught up in the bedroom. Four s
ervants were cornered there. Jemeryl entered just in time to see Tevi grab the nearest one by the front of her tunic and slam her against a wall.

  “Where’s Sefriall?”

  “She’s gone.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know.” The girl’s eyes were stretched wide in fear.

  Tevi again slammed the servant against the wall. “Where?”

  “Tevi!” Jemeryl shouted. “That’s a housemaid, not a soldier. Think about what you’re doing.”

  “Ma’am.” The girl’s eyes turned to Jemeryl in desperate appeal. “I don’t know where Sefriall’s gone. An hour ago, she was in and out in a flash. No one’s seen her since. She said the Coven sorcerers were coming to get her.”

  Tevi released the servant’s tunic. The girl darted aside and escaped. Tevi glared after her but made no further move to give chase. Jemeryl collapsed in a chair and watched as Tevi prowled around the room, slamming her fist on walls and kicking cabinets as she passed. Maybe if Tevi took her anger out on the furniture it would help her calm down.

  “What now?”

  “Now?” Tevi stalked to a chest and threw open the lid. “I’m going to search the room and see if I can find any clues about where the bitch has gone.”

  Jemeryl nodded, feeling relieved. The more time Tevi took, the more chance her rage would subside and she would start thinking rationally. The methodical act of searching might also help clear her head.

  It seemed to work. By the time Tevi was halfway around the room, the insane fury had left her face. She no longer looked like someone who would assault domestic staff. Tevi opened another chest. This time, the hint of a surprised smile touched her face. “Hey. Look what I’ve found.”

  “What?”

  Tevi pulled out a bundle. “These belong to us. Do you remember our stuff that Ciamon confiscated? Sefriall hung on to them. Here’s my rune-sword and your staff.”

  Jemeryl started to get to her feet, but her leg had seized while she had been sitting. She hissed at the pain and sank back down. Before she could boost the numbing spell, Tevi was at her side.

  “Jem. Are you all right?”

  “My leg. It’s—”

  “You should have stayed at the infirmary and had Zorathe look at it.”

  “And let you rampage through the temple on your own, terrorising housemaids?”

  A guilty expression crossed Tevi’s face. “That wasn’t too good of me.”

  “True.”

  “Come on. I’ll take you back to the infirmary.”

  “You’ll forget about killing Sefriall?”

  “No. Not after what she did. I can’t let it drop. Darjain and Botha were caught and hurt because they followed me. I owe it to them.” The blind, uncontrollable anger had gone from Tevi’s face, but the grim resolve that had replaced it was no less frightening. “I’ll track her down, to the end of the earth if need be. And I’ll make her pay.”

  *

  Tevi paced in the shade of the colonnade outside the infirmary. Gravel crunched under her feet. The afternoon heat was such that sitting still would have been more sensible, but the coiled tension inside her needed release. The search of Sefriall’s rooms had turned up no clues, nor had Tevi been able to find anyone who would admit to knowing anything.

  Could she have forced one of the sentinels or priests to speak? The idea made Tevi uncomfortable. If she had, it would have made her no better than Sefriall. As it was, she felt ashamed, knowing how out of control she had been that morning, and morality aside, forcing a lie from an ignorant bystander would only lead to a wild goose chase. However, Tevi was not about to give up. Sefriall would die for what she had done.

  On a nearby ledge, Jemeryl was seated, watching her pace. Tevi was aware of the reproach in her lover’s eyes, and while she was willing to concede that attacking the housemaid had been wrong, Tevi could not understand the ethical standpoint Jemeryl was taking. They had both seen the cellar. Jemeryl knew what had happened there. How could she back away as if it were nothing to do with her?

  Tevi stopped pacing. “How can you let Sefriall get away with what she did? Don’t you feel any responsibility for making her pay?”

  “I would in the Protectorate, but I don’t have any authority to administer the law here.”

  “I’m not talking about law. I’m talking about what you feel in your gut.”

  “My gut says it’s for the people of Kradja to deal with Sefriall.”

  “It was our friends she tortured and murdered.”

  “The people of Kradja have been her main victims. It’s up to them to decide what they want to do. I don’t have the right to use magic to force my ideas or morals on them.”

  “The people of Kradja knew what they wanted. They had a nice temple and some decent priests. They made a good living from travellers. Then a Coven sorcerer screwed it up. Don’t you owe them for that?”

  “What I owe them is what Ci took away—the right to sort out their own lives.”

  “So why were you here at all? Why not let them keep the emanator?”

  “Don’t be stupid. The morphology it induced would have destroyed the Coven. That was why we were here. To remove the threat to the Protectorate. Now it’s gone, we should stop interfering.”

  “Ciamon interfered. He released a monster in this town. We can’t wash our hands of it. We have to undo as much of the harm he caused as we can.”

  Jemeryl sighed. “I agree. Ci was the root cause of it all. If he’d never come here, Sefriall wouldn’t have had the chance to do what she did. She’d have stayed an ordinary priest. She wasn’t responsible for the situation she ended up in.”

  “She’s responsible for what she did when she got there.”

  “The world is full of people who’d have done the same if they’d been put in her place. She’s just unlucky that she was put in a position that brought out the worst in her.”

  “Unlucky!”

  “Maybe that’s not quite the right word, but Ci was the one who overturned all the social structures that kept her in check. He was responsible for what Sefriall became, and he’s paid for it.”

  Tevi felt a new flare of anger, this time directed at Jemeryl. “What you mean is Sefriall is a poor ungifted victim of magic. Only sorcerers can control all the dimensions. Everyone else is at the mercy of circumstance, so they can’t be fully held to account, like children, or animals.”

  Jemeryl also showed signs of irritation. “No. I don’t mean that. But how about you? How much is this because it’s a woman who’s harmed a man? Because men are vulnerable and women ought to protect them. Would you be so eager to avenge a woman? Or would you feel she ought to be left to avenge herself?”

  Tevi hesitated. Was there a shadow of truth in what Jemeryl said? Did it matter if there was? “I don’t know. I’d like to think I hold everyone equally to account for their actions. None of us get to choose the conditions of our lives, but we can choose how we react. Sefriall chose to do what she did. And I won’t choose to walk away. I must act in accordance with my conscience.”

  A polite cough interrupted Tevi. Esley stood in the nearby doorway. The infirmary porter ducked his head in a nervous bow while casting sideways looks at Jemeryl. The presence of a sorcerer clearly made him ill at ease.

  “Please, ma’am. Zorathe sent me with a message.”

  “What is it?”

  “She thought you’d want to know Darjain died a few minutes ago.”

  Tevi spun away, unable to speak. She stared at the temple, but the scene smeared as her eyes filled with tears. That was where Darjain had worshipped the god he had loved. He had cared about people. He had harmed no one. He had deserved a better end.

  Esley continued. “She wanted you to know it was probably for the best, what with the state he was in. He hadn’t woken up again after you brought him here, so he didn’t suffer any more.”

  “How about Botha?” Jemeryl asked the question.

  “She’ll be all right…mostly.”

>   “Thank you.”

  Tevi heard Esley’s footsteps fade and then Jemeryl’s, getting closer.

  “Tevi? Are you all right?” Jemeryl’s hand rested on her arm.

  “I…er…no. Not really.” Tevi wiped her eyes. “I feel to blame.”

  “You did all you could.”

  “Like leading him into Sefriall’s hands and then abandoning him?”

  “You’re not being fair on yourself. Remember, you tried to talk him out of it.”

  “I should have tried harder. If nothing else, I owe him justice now. I can’t fail him twice.”

  “Then you’re setting yourself up to fail. Sefriall’s gone and we don’t know how to find her.”

  Tevi clenched her jaw. There had to be something she could do—defeat would be too bitter—and then a new thought struck. “Parrash. He’ll know where Sefriall has gone.”

  “Yes, and most likely he’ll have gone there with her.” Jemeryl’s voice was unsympathetic.

  “Maybe, maybe not. Either way, his sister will know how to find him.”

  “Do you know how to find the sister?”

  “I know where her bakery is.” Tevi turned her head.

  Jemeryl’s eyes searched her face. “Tevi. Can’t you let it go?”

  “No. I’ve got to try. Will you come with me or wait here?”

  “I want nothing to do with your quest for vengeance. I’m not going to kill anyone.”

  “I’m not asking you to. But will you stand in my way?”

  Jemeryl sank her face into her hands. Tevi stood waiting for her answer. At last Jemeryl looked up again. “Never.”

  *

  Sefriall had been wise to flee before news got out. The market was in chaos, with ex-pilgrims literally fighting for a place on any transport leaving Kradja. So far, the weapons were fists, not blades, but it could change at any moment. Hysteria was taking over. With each hour, the rumours got more lurid. By now, the approaching sorcerers were riding dragons and griffins. Jemeryl made sure her black amulet was invisible. She did not want to find out what sort of panic would erupt if it was spotted.