Finding an open window in the ever-cooling season was an issue. The nearly full moon shone on the opposite side of the building and left me in near-total darkness. Reaching my destination, I sent a thin blade of shadow between the shutters to raise the simple catch, then set them to worrying the edges of the window for a way in. It didn’t take long, and soon I was crouched beside the open portal. I restrained my Aspect and assessed the sleeping chambers of a traitor to at least three causes. I had no personal grudge against him. I hadn’t known he existed until Nan told me about him, but that wouldn’t prevent me from doing what I must to succeed. I padded closer, my bare feet not even making a whisper on the thick carpets.
Alyster was tall and thin with perfect hair, even in slumber. For that reason alone, I immediately disliked the man. His wiry frame suggested he was fit, rather than frail, and he even wore his nightclothes with aplomb. A woman—his wife, I assumed, according to the custom of Trulari nobility—lay beside him. I could just hear her delicate snore as she lay beneath her husband’s arm.
I pulled my shadows about me in preparation to strike, but it was a precaution only in the event I was seen. Removing a thin hollow needle, I pricked the sleeping woman’s neck and administered what Nan referred to as a mild poison. She stirred a moment then fell into an even deeper sleep. The effects were near instantaneous. I don’t know where Nan had gotten the potion, but it was effective. I repeated the process with Alyster, and in moments, I was out the window with the sleeping man secured over my shoulders. They would live, or rather, they wouldn’t die from the draught I had inflicted upon them. But the night was young and full of opportunity.
I took the Prefect to the unused storehouse where I had stashed the pile of dead guardsmen. The cool days and even cooler nights had kept them from being discovered, and for that I was grateful. My timetable had already accelerated, and I was about to move it up more.
The chill air caused Prefect Alyster’s breath to plume about him, even through the coarse bag I’d secured over his head. He labored to breathe as he regained consciousness and began to panic when he realized his situation . The chair I tied him to threatened to topple when he began to struggle.
I finished dressing and whipped the sack from his head. He winced in the light of the single lantern that sat on the nearby table. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he was able to take in the ravaged city guards. It took an effort on his part, but he was able to keep from retching. I watched him. I let him get a good look before I took a seat on the corner of the table.
My shadow fell across him, and his eyes lit with recognition. He and his wife had been at the Prince’s ball. His hair was tousled. That’s better, I mused. His visage changed from one of abject fear, to understanding, to loathing.
“You,” he spat. “I know you.”
“I doubt you know much,” I said, “else you would be much more afraid right now.”
“I have nothing to fear from the Mata’s newest pet. I am not a member of Prince Kaden’s court. I am under the protection of—”
“—his sister, Princess Oriana Rais. Yes, I know. I know a great deal, as a matter of fact. For example, I know that you have been working with another Prefect on some special arrangements. That is what I wanted to talk to you about."
Alyster’s eyes narrowed. “Lies fabricated by the Mata,” he said.
“Now why would the Mata create such tales about a trusted ally? Hmm?” I asked. “...Unless you are not so trusted. Tell me, Torin, who are you working with, and what are your plans?”
“You have no idea what you are talking about,” he said. “The Mata is paranoid and delusional.”
He cried out when I backhanded him across the mouth hard enough that he fell and crashed into the wooden floor. I loomed over him and, taking a fistful of his nightshirt, righted him and his chair. I grabbed his face and forced him to look at the pile of mangled guards.
“Your lovely wife will discover you are missing in a few short hours.” He squirmed in my grasp, but I held him firm. “With you being so uncooperative, however, I am wondering what her lovely form would look like resting atop that pile of bodies there. I could even turn her pretty, lifeless face to stare at you. What would her look convey, Torin? Would it be love?” My voice hardened then. “Or would it be an accusation, condemnation for her loss, all because you held to whatever loyalty prevented you from telling me what I wanted to know? Should I arrange your children with her in a loving embrace? Is that what you want, Torin? Fine!” I shoved him over backward, and his head hit the floor again. I stepped over him and made my way toward the door.
“Wait!” he cried. He was sobbing now, and I felt my heart break for him. Yes, he was conspiring to overthrow the King. He was dealing behind the Mata’s back to supplant her. But he was still a husband, still a father. I would not hurt his family because they were not my enemies. He couldn’t know that, however. I was just grateful that he didn’t put me to the test.
I stopped and turned toward him? “Did you have something to say?”
“Pardo…” he cried through broken sobs. “I’m working with Pardo.”
Galateia and I entered a room brimming with hostility and calculation. I wore my chain, and the Mata wore a more sensible dress than she had at the Prince’s ball. She had fastened her end of our chain to a thin band around her own throat. Yet another statement to keep the crowds guessing.
“Let us begin,” the Mata said over the chatter of those assembled. “I have things to do.”
“Prefect Alyster has yet to arrive,” said a woman from the other side of the room. “We can begin when he does.”
Galateia gave my hand a squeeze and sat in the chair at the end of the long table. I sat on her right. She had said that Pardo was her primary rival and she would be the first to speak out against her. She was not wrong. Galateia had let such challenges pass previously due to needing the woman’s support, but Pardo had grown impertinent. Galateia would tolerate her insolence no longer. She wanted an example made. Our plan would ensure everyone toed the line after tonight.
“Torin awaits my pleasure,” the Mata said. “I do not await his. That is a point you all seem to have forgotten.” There was some bristling at that as everyone took their seats.
The room was not overlarge. The table where we sat dominated the center, surrounded by thirteen high-backed chairs, one of which was empty.
“What is it you want, Florencia?” the Mata asked. “You test my patience. I am surprised that you all were in the city at the same time. Don’t you have preparations to make?”
“Preparations have been made. Besides, that is some ways off. There is time.”
“I am glad you are prepared,” the Mata said. “We can move ahead more quickly.”
“We agreed to wait,” Prefect Pardo said testily. “With so violent a death as that which befell the Arulean Duke, it is wise that we wait for the attention to die down before proceeding. Whoever got to the Duke may have learned something of our plans. To rush ahead would be foolish.”
This garnered a round of mumbled agreements and a self-satisfied smile from Pardo.
“His support was only a small part of the plan,” the Mata said.
“My informants tell me that the Prince is less than pleased with one of our number,” Pardo said.
“Funny you should mention that,” I said. I had been lounging in my chair and toying with my leash until then. “Because there was, in fact, some chatter that reached the Prince’s ear.” The mumblings from the gathered Prefects changed. “It seems someone has been talking, spreading rumors and lies, and trying to turn the Prince against a trusted ally.”
“Who is this man, Mata?” demanded Prefect Pardo. “Does he speak for you now? Have you lost so much? I saw you two at the ball. Your actions were shameless, even for you.”
“My actions are none of your concern, Florencia,” Galateia said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Where is your Hound?” demanded the Prefect.
<
br /> “I am here,” I said, “and I have sharp teeth and sensitive ears.”
“Again he speaks without your permission. Palasia would never have dared.” Prefect Pardo narrowed her eyes at me.
“I need no such permission, Prefect. I do not speak for my lover, but rather with her. As the Eye sees, the ear hears, and I have heard much.”
Prefect Pardo fixed me with a hard gaze as she struggled to regain control of the conversation.
“In fact,” I said, “these fabrications have inspired the Prince to take direct action.”
Every eye was on me as I stood behind the Mata and massaged her shoulders lightly. Galateia purred, closed her eyes and leaned her head back, relaxing into my touch. That she could be at such ease here was a statement in itself. She could let her guard down with me to watch over her, and expose her throat, physically and symbolically, to her enemies.
The message was not lost on those in attendance.
“How do you know this?” asked a Prefect near the other end of the table. His eyes were suspicious and his expression guarded.
“Because he sent The Sisters after my Mata,” I said. Gasps sounded all about the room.
“Then you are surely dead,” came another voice.
“Please,” I scoffed. “I am pretty, but not so much so that three little girls pose a threat.”
The man nearly choked. “Those aren’t just ‘three little girls,’ they are the Sisters!”
“Well, they have been dealt with and no longer pose a threat to us,” I said.
“Who would dare try to turn the Prince against the Mata?” came a voice from the middle of the table. He was a heavy-set man with a balding pate that he would not give up trying to salvage with a comb-over and shave like a reasonable man.
I retook my seat and glanced at the empty chair. “Prefect Alyster will not, in fact, be joining us.”
“Oh dear,” said the Mata. “What happened? Tell us, love.”
“After my talk with the Sisters, I took their information and had words with Alyster. He had much to say.”
“Why isn’t he here to speak for himself, then?” Pardo asked.
“He didn’t survive the conversation,” I said. “But before he died, he told me much. At the end, he raged against my Mata, his tongue spewed all manner of vile insult and threat. I am afraid I may have lost my temper.”
“So protective,” Galateia said and caressed my cheek. I leaned into her hand.
“Where are you going with this?” Pardo asked.
“Ah, we are getting to that, thank you.” I straightened and focused on the assembly. “Prefect Alyster told me of a plot within this very group. He and another conspired to oust one of these fine leaders from their position and annex their lands and holdings. ”
“Against whom were they plotting?” asked a Prefect from the other side of the table.
“Him.” I pointed to a slight man with hair greased back flat to his head. He was drinking wine that he’d apparently brought with him. Prefect Ealdwin jumped when every eye swung to him. He gulped as he realized the context with which he was being regarded. Ealdwin was a lesser Prefect, perfectly content to enjoy the benefits of his position. He had a weakness, however. He was ambitious enough to support both the Prince and the Mata thinking he could negotiate greater perks to enjoy once the Prince was securely enthroned. He was also lazy enough that he would pose no threat to anyone without being forced into action.
“What? Me? Torin wouldn’t do such a thing. Our prefectures are neighbors. We have collaborated numerous times to mutual benefit. He was the one who recruited me into this plan to begin with.” The more he spoke, the angrier his expression became.
“He was conspiring with another, one with greater influence than you,” I said. “They intended to remove you, to open the way for him to annex your holdings and gain much strength within this group. He would, in turn, be beholden to his conspirator and be able to better repay the favor. But they needed time. They needed to delay action against the King to—”
“—to remove me and solidify their power and support,” Prefect Ealdwin said. He might have enjoyed his small luxuries, but the man was no fool.
“Exactly.” I nodded to Ealdwin. “In addition, they plotted to remove the Mata and replace her. Prefect Alyster leaked false information to known spies of the Prince, who sent the Sisters to assassinate the Mata. Had they succeeded,” I continued, “it would have had the side effect of opening up the position of Mata to whoever had support enough to take it.” I looked to Prefect Pardo. “Using a common enemy to eliminate the competition. It was quite clever, really.”
“We had arrangements, all of us here. Signed treatises!” Ealdwin said in disbelief. “With whom was he conspiring?”
“Do you want to tell him, Florencia, or should I?” I said as a thin, balanced blade dropped from my sleeve and into my palm.
Florencia leaned forward, prepared for an outburst, when her head snapped back suddenly, the hilt of my knife protruding from her eye socket. She fell back in her chair, then slumped over the arm.
No one else moved.
“Now that unfortunate business is settled,” the Mata said, taking in all around the table, “let’s get down to the real reason we are gathered here today.”
She led the discussion. Throughout the meeting, each member present occasionally glanced at Prefect Pardo’s corpse—a warning and a promise against future treachery. I now knew the names and faces of all those involved in the coup, and had increased my standing with the Mata, gaining even more of her trust. All was going according to plan, or my plan, at least. Yet another part of Nan’s latest lesson. It was the hardest yet, and none had been easy.
The First Temple
“Never really had a priest kink before,” Shani said, seeing me in my robes for the first time. “Do you think you could do a blessing on me after this?”
I just shook my head at Shani and continued pushing the wheeled cart carrying the new brazier toward the head of the great hall. She smacked my rear as I passed, then squealed when I grabbed her, tossed her into the large bowl, and resumed pushing.
“Maybe I’ll just make you the sacrifice.”
“Wouldn’t I have to be a virgin or something?” she asked. “Because that ship sailed long ago.” Shani rolled over onto her back in the giant bowl. Her legs draped over the far end and she kicked her feet over the edge as she looked up at me, upside down, and smiled that smile.
“If I sent one as sweet as you to the Queen, she’d lose a tooth from rot,” I said.
“We really have to work on your flirting,” she said, deadpan. We both laughed.
The stand for the brazier was already in place, as was the last of the large windows. The setting sun streamed in through the colored glass and bathed the entire sanctuary in every conceivable color. As we passed through the beams, they did odd and wonderful things to Shani’s skin and hair. I halted next to the stand, and she climbed from the large iron bowl.
The windows were perfect. They were twenty feet tall and nearly half that in width. Each one depicted a scene from the Holy Books. Nearly identical windows could be found in the Grand Temple where I grew up. The traditional image of the Great Queen Hessa stood in the center. That one had taken the longest to make, as it was more finely detailed. The artist would have it no other way. He said if there was going to be a new temple in Trular, then the representation of the Goddess must be exquisite. He delivered, and then some.
It was the traditional image of Hessa, the Goddess of Death and Life. She stood tall with arms outstretched. Everything was perfect. The window rivalled even those that were in the Imperial Temple in Corinthia. The sight took my breath away.
The artisan who created these was truly a master. He and his apprentices had worked ceaselessly, day after day, and more than earned their commission. The windows cost nearly as much as the building, but they were worth it. They were the centerpiece of the temple, along with the statue that Brother Balinar had
hauled from the Empire. When Balinar saw the workmen unwrapping the large glass centerpiece, he had fallen to his knees and cried. He tried to thank me, but I told him to direct his energy toward making the temple a useful fixture within the city. He vowed upon his own soul that he would, and I knew better than most that the Queen would hold him to his promise.
My last addition surprised him. While the scene captured in the glass was described in the Holy Books, it was a less popular tale. He admitted that it fit into the lore, but seemed confused why I would give it a place of prominence in the temple. I didn’t have an answer for him that made sense. To me, it just felt right. He could not deny, however, that it was a striking scene.
The last window, the one to the far left, was not an accurate reproduction of that in the Grand Temple. I had never really thought the original fit within the lore of the Order of Hessa. The window in the Grand Temple was of a fountain and beautiful flowers growing all around it. There was such a fountain within the temple gardens, and it held a traditional statue of Hessa at its center. It had always seemed to me, however, that there was something missing.
When I was young, Uncle Ishaan had told us children the tale of Mikos, the Lord of the Hunt, another god within the pantheon of the people of Arul. Mikos, in search of a lover, set his sights on the maiden Hessa. Hessa was seemingly not interested in the beast lord’s attentions and fled. The tale went that he had hunted her through all four seasons and tracked her across the breadth of the entire world. Late one evening, Mikos came upon the beautiful maid as she cooled her feet in a stream. He looked upon her beauty and was so taken by her he lost control, stormed into the clearing, and took her there at the edge of the pool.
None but the pair could know the complete story or the truth of the legends. The followers of Mikos claim that he took her by right of the hunt, and she is his. The Order of Hessa believes that she was so overcome by his persistence that she gave in to his desire, enamored by his devotion to her and so named him her consort.
Oathbound: The Emperor's Conscience, Book 2 Page 22