A Broken Paradise (The Windows of Heaven Book 3)

by Powderly Jr. , K. G.

  Muhet’Usalaq pushed Yargat aside with remarkable strength, and shuffled right up to Henumil’s face. “As for burning incense to those relics—you, Henumil, ought to be old enough to know that such a thing has never been done. You have taken sacred things intended to tell a history, and degraded them into good luck charms, as do the sons of Qayin with their superstitious icons of stone, gold, and wood. Surrender them up, for you are not worthy to hold them any longer!”

  Henumil trembled with a pent-up fury Tiva found all too familiar. For a moment, she was sure he would order his Dragon-slayers to attack.

  U’Sumi raised his weapon again. This time A’Nu-Ahki did not order him to stand down.

  Finally, the Priest-Dragon-slayer spat, “Let them take the relics!”

  “But Father?” wailed Yargat.

  Henumil placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, and barked loud enough for everyone else to hear, “Their ship, much as it is a fool’s enterprise, lies high and dry in the valley. The relics will rest for awhile inside the ship—still in the valley, and thus still able to protect us. After World-end sweeps away all but Akh’Uzan, and neither flame nor water touches that giant casket, we shall go out to demand back what the Fathers intended for all of our comfort. And if they will not give it then—then that ship truly shall become a giant casket!”

  Yargat wept. “But the Shrine!”

  “We still have the stele of Seti’s Code, and the pedestals that have been sanctified by the relics. These shall serve temporarily.”

  “But who will leave offerings to see pedestals?”

  Muhet’Usalaq spat, and turned back to Tiva. “Your ancestor would disown you, Henumil! And you would deserve it far more than this precious girl-child you cast out! Why don’t you pray to him, and see?”

  Tiva’s heart felt as though it would stop. The Ancient thinks I’m precious?

  “I pray to Urugim all the time,” replied the Priest, maintaining the pious, persecuted quiver in his voice that Tiva knew so well, from when he used to talk about the holy martyrs of Regati. “I pray that your brother would speak the truth back into your heart.”

  “You never knew my brother—or the truth!” Muhet’Usalaq said, as he pulled Tiva along back up towards Q’Enukki’s Retreat.

  U’

  Sumi’s voice called, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Tiva slowed her pace, and looked up at the forest’s arching green branches overhead. Truth was she didn’t want to do anything of the sort.

  She paused on the trail to let her brother-in-law and his wife catch up. Tiva turned to answer him, “I think I need to. But if the walk is too hard on you, T’Qinna, it can wait.”

  U’Sumi’s wife laughed—with both sides of her face nearly back to normal. “I’m okay now. Besides, I didn’t even work today. What I don’t understand is why you feel so strongly about these people—especially after what they did to you—and not your parents.”

  Tiva turned again to the trail. “My father made it clear where my old family stood the day he surrendered the Relics.”

  U’Sumi said, “Your father didn’t seem to notice you at all that day. He might not have spoken to you because he was focused on my father.”

  “He noticed. Besides, he told me long ago that I was dead to him.”

  Tiva turned down the side path to Grove Hollow. It was late enough in the afternoon that the regulars would be gathering, but not so late that the people she wanted to see most would be too far-gone to talk.

  When they entered the clearing, Tiva was shocked at how much the place had changed. Garbage was strewn everywhere, and most of the moss between the fire-pit and the waterfall pool had died from more than two decades of ash and heavy traffic. Several of the Witchy Girls skinny-dipped under the falls, while some unfamiliar boys gathered wood for the fire.

  A lone figure sat on a log, staring off into space. Tiva had seen Farsa at a distance a few times in the marketplace, but never up close since the night she fled the Hollowers. Her old friend’s red hair had grown stringy and hung in her eyes. Farsa didn’t even notice Tiva’s presence until she stood right in front of her.

  “Farsa?”

  The woman on the log looked up, a puzzled frown on her dirty face. “Well, I’ll be a skunk-toad. It’s good to see ya, Tiva. Where ya been?”

  The shadow of U’Sumi and T’Qinna on either side must have given sufficient answer.

  “Oh, yeah.” Farsa shook her head as if to clear it. “I gotta tell ya, I’m real sorry about what happened the night you left, Tiva. I’ve been meaning to take a stroll over to your—your sh-ship place, but one thing sorta leads to another and…”

  Tiva smiled. “It’s okay, Farsa. Sorry I hit you. I know that you at least never meant to hurt me. You didn’t know what was really happening.”

  Farsa gave a tired laugh. “Funny, that’s what we all said about you afterward—but I know what you mean, and yer prob-ly right.”

  Tiva gathered her courage. She heard the noise increase over by the waterfall, and glanced in that direction to see what the commotion was. One of the Witchy Girls was pointing at her and shouting back into the woods on the other side of the stream.

  “Do you and Moon-chaser still go up to the Wisdom Tree?” Tiva asked, wondering why any of the Witchies should care that she had shown her face again at the Hollow.

  Farsa shrugged. “Me, not so much. I left Varkun last year, so some of the Zakes are mad at me—except for Sariya and my brother—though they both still go quite a bit. The only thing Vark’s good for is the moss, but life’s more than rolling the moss and doing seer’s button festivals, ya know?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “So, are you here to tell me all about World-end, or something?”

  Tiva squatted down to Farsa’s eye level. “There’s not much I can say that you don’t already know deep down, except…”

  Farsa met her eyes fully. “Except what?”

  Tiva almost tripped over her tongue. “Except that these people I’m with now, they’re not like the other Lits—all fake and stuff. They really care, and they don’t hold a person’s past against them.”

  “What about a person’s present?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Tiva noticed Sariya, with an escort of Witchy Girls, cross the stream past the pool.

  “People have choices in the present.”

  Farsa saw the others approach too, and scrunched her mouth. “Yeah, well, I heard that choice is an illusion, so we can all pretend that we’re in control of our lives. I already know I’m outa control—so there you have it.”

  “So was I, Farsa.”

  “Look, I like you for trying. But let’s not. Okay?”

  Tiva hung her head and changed the subject. “How’s Tsuli?”

  Farsa glanced again at Sariya and the Witchies. “She should be on the trail, coming up from academy. You might catch her if you leave now.”

  “But I want to talk to you some more.”

  “Leave now!” repeated another voice.

  Tiva stood up and faced Sariya. Her old friend was unrecognizable, with lines of crude geometric scars cut into her face and arms, and her head shaved bald. Even more hideous, one of Sariya’s breasts was missing. Tiva stared her down. “I’m talking to Farsa. What business is that of yours?”

  “None—if you’re here with your new friends to festival. Otherwise, you’re taking up our space!”

  Farsa stood and gave Tiva a quick hug. “It’s okay, Tiva. You want to catch Tsuli up on the trail anyway—where you can talk to her alone. I’m glad you came to visit, though. It means a lot to me. I’ll see ya around.”

  Tiva couldn’t believe it when she saw Sariya physically pull Farsa away toward the stream. What was even more unreal was that Farsa let her.

  She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. Tiva turned and saw T’Qinna’s sad eyes. U’Sumi released the hilt of the short sword he had hidden under his cloak.

  “Are you okay?” asked her sister-in-law’
s musical accent.

  Tiva nodded. “Farsa’s right. Let’s catch Tsuli up on the trail, so I can find out what’s happened here and put it to rest.”

  They intercepted Tiva’s childhood friend just as they approached the gate to Q’Enukki’s Retreat.

  Unlike Farsa, Tsulia was well-groomed, dressed in a racy blue serpent wrap that barely covered the essentials. Her eyes lit up at Tiva’s approach, as she spread her arms in a worldwide hug.

  “Tiva-bell! How are you? What have you been doing with yourself?”

  Tiva turned to U’Sumi and T’Qinna. “I want a few minutes alone with her, if that’s alright.”

  U’Sumi shrugged. “Sure. We just came along for support.”

  T’Qinna squeezed Tiva’s shoulder, and then brushed past with her husband, into the monastery gate.

  “Hi, Tsuli.” Tiva allowed her old friend’s embrace to swallow her. “I’ve missed you.”

  Tsulia nudged Tiva out to arms’ length and looked her over. “We shouldn’t be such strangers—I mean we only live a short walk from each other! I know what happened the night you left was really bad—Moon’s felt awful about it for years. Oh—we’re finally getting married!”

  Tiva didn’t know which of Tsuli’s announcements to respond to. She finally settled on saying, “Congratulations,” after an awkward pause.

  “I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time—really!” Tsuli said. “You’ll never guess what I do for a living these days… I can’t tell the others—not even Moon—but you’d understand.” She glanced around at the trees as if to make sure they wouldn’t overhear. “You’ve got to promise not to tell anybody though!”

  “Who would I tell?” Tiva had figured that after seeing Farsa, talking to Tsuli again would be easy.

  She was wrong.

  Tsuli seemed confused by the question. “Just promise!”

  “Okay, I promise. I won’t tell.”

  A huge grin wrapped itself around Tsulia’s face. “I’m a spy for the Archon’s Intelligence Directorate!”

  “A spy?”

  “Absolutely go to—with a secret contact and everything!”

  Tiva could actually feel the surreality sucking her into itself on a physical level, deep in the pit of her stomach. “Does it pay well?”

  Tsuli flashed a hand full of sapphire rings. “You would not believe!”

  “Who do you spy on?”

  “Oh! That’s the secret. Moon and the others—especially that Varkun—he is such a skunk turd!”

  “I thought you loved Moon?”

  “Go to, Tiva! It’s for their own vulpin’ good.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “It’s like this: Moon’s really in touch with the Helpers. But there’s Helpers and then there’s Helpers. Varkun is also in touch with them—but the Archon thinks that Moon’s Helpers are good Helpers, while Varkun’s are really just fallen Watchers in disguise.”

  “So, where do you fit in?”

  Tsulia pondered the question for a moment. “I guess I advise Moon-chaser, and my contact advises me. Let’s face it, Moon’s got a good heart, but he’s in way over his head. I’m just glad the Archon really cares about the younger generations the way he does. But Moon doesn’t trust the archonate all that much—which makes things hard. That’s why I think you and Khumi should come back to the Hollow. You two always had a good influence on him. Between the three of us, I know we could get Moon to see where the Helpers are really leading him.”

  Tiva didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’m sorry, Tsuli, but I’m never coming back to the Hollow—no offense.”

  Tsulia’s face dropped. “Oh. Well, that’s okay. The Directive is watching. They’ll step in if things get outa control. Moon’s expecting me, so I gotto go. It’s great to see you again—really. Say ‘hello’ to me when you bump into me at the marketplace from now on. Remember, don’t tell!”

  “I won’t. Bye.”

  Tiva watched her old friend bounce off into the greenery, and finally understood the loss that A’Nu-Ahki had felt in his own friendship with the Floodhaven elder. It seemed that the “point of no return” hid in the underbrush along the mundane trail of daily choices about the small things.

  A

  furious clanging of the bronze bell that hung outside the fortress-monastery’s gate disturbed the afternoon meditations at Q’Enukki’s Retreat.

  Tiva and T’Qinna remained to tend the Ancient and Lumekki while the others worked down at the shipyard. They both tried to race across the courtyard in time to keep the racket from waking up the “meditating” elders inside the common hall.

  Tiva got to the gate first. “What is it?” she called through the great wooden doors.

  A voice from the other side said, “We have an official delivery package for a woman by the name of Pyra. The chest has the seal of Mnemosynae of Aztlan upon its hasp and warranted an armed escort.”

  Tiva said, “We have no Pyra here. You have the wrong address!”

  Then she saw T’Qinna grow deathly pale, as the side of her face that until recently had drooped from her hand-cannon wound began to twitch. Her opposing arm and leg began to tremble violently. Tiva caught her as she dropped to the ground, convulsing all up one side of her body.

  “There is no mistake!” called the Voice outside the gate. “This chest must be delivered by force of diplomatic treaty with Aztlan.”

  Tiva didn’t know what to do. At the mention of “Aztlan,” she instantly understood her sister-in-law’s nervous reaction. She knew that T’Qinna must have once been this “Pyra,” and had changed her name before arriving in Akh’Uzan, or had it changed for her by A’Nu-Ahki.

  The men outside began to pound the door.

  Tiva cradled T’Qinna’s head in her arms, while her own eyes began to tear up. “Wait!” she called to the men outside, “The bar is heavy…and…I always have trouble lifting it…alone!”

  “What is the infernal racket?” demanded the voice of Muhet’Usalaq, who Tiva now heard shuffling up behind her.

  T’Qinna stopped convulsing and looked up at her. “Tiivva,” she slurred, “You musth let them in. There’th nothing you can do.”

  “No! I won’t let them take you back to…to that!”

  The Voice outside the door said, “I’m instructed to reassure Pyra that no action will be taken against her. We just want to deliver the chest. We’ve been told that everything will be explained by its contents.”

  Tiva looked up at Muhet’Usalaq and then back down to T’Qinna, who was rapidly regaining her strength. When T’Qinna nodded that she was ready, Tiva helped her back to her feet.

  “Open the door,” commanded Muhet’Usalaq.

  After Tiva muscled the bar off—which wasn’t really so heavy—three men entered the keep. The largest carried a wooden box about a cubit long and tall, but slightly less wide, up against his pectorals. The other two were armed with ceremonial spears, and stayed at the gate while the larger man carried the chest into the common hall, where Muhet’Usalaq motioned him left of the mantle. Tiva and T’Qinna followed him in, arm in arm.

  He placed the chest on a stone pedestal by the fireplace, and asked T’Qinna to sign a tiny finger-scroll to show receipt of delivery.

  After the men left, and Tiva re-barred the gate, she rejoined T’Qinna in the common hall. Muhet’Usalaq had disappeared back into the library, apparently disinterested in the contents of the box.

  T’Qinna stood before the thing with tears running down her cheeks.

  Tiva said, “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  “I’m afraid.”

  “You’ve never been afraid of anything since the day I met you.”

  “You didn’t know me before.”

  Tiva touched her shoulder. “So the sandal is on the other foot today. ‘Bout time! It was bound to happen sooner or later with us two.”

  “Not like this.”

  “We’ll open it together, and face whatever’s inside together.”


  T’Qinna nodded and handed Tiva the disk-key the messenger had given her with the box. “Just fit it into the identical indentation on the hasp.”

  Tiva inserted the strangely ornamented metal device into its resting place. Gears whirred inside the hasp, until a series of clicks caused the chest to open on three sides. Inside, was a glass and metal object on a polished stone base. On either side of it, in cushioned slots, were a series of crystals, all clear as diamond—except for one, which had a milky pearl-like quality.

  Tiva said, “It looks like the village orb in the Immigrant’s Quarter, only smaller.”

  “It is a similar device. But it can’t send images over the spiritual ether—only recall the images and information contained on these crystals, or record any new images I might want to make.” T’Qinna reached for the milky crystal, ignoring the others. “Only this one has images on it—you can tell because of its mother-of-pearl color. The others are blank.”

  “What images do you suppose your people have sent you?”

  “I’m afraid to find out.”

  “What’s the worst it could be?”

  T’Qinna turned to her. “They hid things in my mind—terrible things! It could contain a word or an image designed to pull those things to the surface! It could even change my entire personality!”

  Tiva had never seen such fear in anyone’s eyes except her own. “No,” she said. “Because if I see demons coming out at you, I’ll push the device over and smash it!”

  T’Qinna shook her head. “You might not see it. It would be a subtle thing—not something that an onlooker could notice without knowing what to look for. Yet, I still have to know! It may be to announce that they are on their way here, now that they’ve found me!”

  Tiva looked carefully at the malevolent thing. If even the strong ones like T’Qinna are so vulnerable, how shall I fare when my demons return—they always do. They always have… A tiny scroll slip she noticed tucked behind the small orb display broke her thought.