The men saluted.
“Mitan, take me to the Fountain of Origin.”
6
As the doors opened a cold wind slipped into the room. The pages of the open books on the stands rustled. Kasimirh looked up from the manuscript that he had randomly picked off one of the shelves. Zuzeca had entered.
“I was expecting you later, Kasimirh.” He sat down in the chair across from the sorcerer. He beckoned to one of the women. “Bring us some refreshments. And light a few more candles.”
“Forget about that last bit,” said Kasimirh.
Zuzeca had taken up residence in the library. The Merzians attached so much value to their books that they kept them in the most fortified room in the palace. The building was in ruins, but the library was undamaged. It would be a pity if a fire were to destroy all this knowledge after all.
The woman returned with a decanter of wine and some cheese. “Leave us alone,” Zuzeca said after she had poured out their glasses.
Kasimirh took a sip. He relaxed as he enjoyed the wine.
“I found a text that will interest you,” Zuzeca said after he had gulped down his wine.
Kasimirh gave him a questioning look.
“It surprised me that they didn’t take Yvar’s body with them,” Zuzeca continued. “But apparently they couldn’t. The Merzians drive out the spirit at the start of the ceremony. Only when the embalmment is finished, do they call it back. The spirit can only find the body if it’s still in the same place.”
Kasimirh shrugged. “And why would that interest me?” he asked when Zuzeca remained silent.
“You could move the body, and Yvar will roam forever.” Zuzeca laughed.
“I’m not going to do that,” was Kasimirh’s surly answer.
“Oh, what does it matter? You don’t even believe that it will happen, but it’s a fantastic opportunity to drive Ferhdessar crazy. You just send him the body.” Zuzeca chuckled as he refilled his own glass.
“I said no!” Kasimirh roared.
Zuzeca was so startled that he spilled the wine. The liquid ran across the table and drenched the scroll of parchment. Kasimirh snatched it off the table and wiped it dry on a cushion.
“The embalmment will continue, and when it’s finished Yvar will be entombed in the crypt.”
Zuzeca looked surprised. “Calm down. I just wanted to cheer you up. You look so worried, of late.”
Kasimirh grumbled something.
“With good cause,” Zuzeca said. “You have every reason to be worried. There’s so much to be done here in Nadesh. I bet you didn’t take all that into consideration beforehand. Or would you like me to believe that everything is going according to plan?”
Kasimirh shook his head. “And whose fault is that?” he asked. “I know this isn’t my strong suit. That’s why I brought you with me. Are you trying to tell me that I’m putting my trust in the wrong man?”
“You brought me with you? I was the one with the invitation to my daughter’s wedding, not you,” Zuzeca snarled.
“It was your job to eliminate the soldiers.”
“I have dealt with similar situations in Naftalia,” Zuzeca replied. “In the end, I conquered that country…”
“With my help.”
Zuzeca laughed. “Who was the one who freed you from that cage?”
Kasimirh jumped up and dragged Zuzeca to his feet. They stared at each other for a few seconds. “Without my help you would have faced much more opposition when you assumed power over Naftalia. I killed your two biggest enemies, and it is my priests who are responsible for the smooth transition to the new religion.” He pushed the Pontifex Maximus. Zuzeca fell back into the chair.
Kasimirh walked away. Moving helped him to feel less wired. “The situation here has not improved. We now have to fight Ferhdessar on even harder terrain. He’ll shut us off from the outside world and starve us if we don’t take action.”
“Again, you’re thinking way too far ahead, Kasimirh. You are overlooking everything that still needs to be done in this city. You have control over the city, but that doesn’t mean that you’re finished here. The people are uniting and they’re attacking us.”
“They’re mere scuffles,” Kasimirh said angrily. It was the last thing he wanted to worry about.
“It’s a sign of resistance. There are still so many places for them to hide. It will take a very long time before all of Nadesh is on your side.”
Kasimirh sighed.
“That’s your job, Kasimirh. You need to keep the people under control.”
Kasimirh shook his head. He looked over his shoulder at Zuzeca who had remained seated. “You have to get rid of the heathens,” Kasimirh said.
“You’re the one who’s telling me that I need to give them a chance to convert, before I’m allowed to label them as heathens. But with your small group of priests it will take forever to question everyone. What you’re trying to do is madness.”
“It’s God’s will.” Kasimirh turned around and crossed his arms.
“You’re living in a dream world, Kasimirh. At your pace, it will take many months before everyone in Nadesh believes in Jakob. How long did it take for Naftalia to be converted? It will be even harder here in Merzia. In Naftalia people were used to obeying their priests out of fear and survival instinct. In Merzia people are used to freedom in almost every respect. And even if you succeed, you’ll only have converted a tiny piece of the world.”
“We’re gaining momentum.”
“And you’re growing older.”
Kasimirh clenched his teeth. He shoved one of the empty stands, and it crashed onto the tiles.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” Zuzeca continued. “I already have what I want. I’ll help you, like we agreed, but perhaps it is time to open your eyes and face the truth. Jakob’s plan won’t ever work like this.”
Kasimirh walked up to the globe in the middle of the room. The first time he’d seen it, he had been in awe at its technical ingenuity. It was a shame that it was no longer working properly, now that the electricity had been cut off. The globe was now a lifeless object – a planet that had lost its spark. It represented the exact opposite of the world that Kasimirh had in mind.
“It will be as Jakob wishes.”
“Then don’t blame me if things aren’t going fast enough.” Zuzeca poured himself a third glass of wine. “I’ll be glad to return to Naftalia shortly.”
Kasimirh nodded his agreement. Tokala would soon join him. Zuzeca’s son at least understood what he was trying to achieve. He gave Zuzeca an inquisitive look. The man had spent his entire life pursuing power over Naftalia. Now he had been given it through Jakob. Had religion been nothing more than a means to an end, or was Zuzeca’s faith in Jakob sincere? Kasimirh glanced at the yellow stole that Zuzeca was wearing. As soon as Zuzeca finished his studies, he too was going to know, deep in his soul, that Jakob was the one True God. Kasimirh walked back to his chair, and stopped. “What do we have here?” he said.
Ghalatea was hiding behind a bookcase. From there she had a good view of Kasimirh. She had first seen him seconds before he killed her king. She had recognized him as an intruder, but hadn’t been able to warn anyone. Ghalatea shuddered at the thought of the way he had touched her, and how his cold magic had silenced her.
From behind the bookcase, she listened to the conversation between Kasimirh and Zuzeca. She was surprised that the sorcerer wanted to entomb Yvar properly. She had always thought of this man as a monster.
From the moment that the army had left the city and Ghalatea had been left behind, her life had been chaos. She had been close to the exit of the citadel when Ferhdessar rode past. She had pressed herself against the wall to escape the horse’s hoofs and had called out to him. He hadn’t heard her because of the noise of the fleeing crowd. She had started to run when they closed the gate, but she had fallen. At first, the noise had increased, until a disheartened silence came over the group of people who had remained behind to fall into the
enemy’s hands.
As soon as she realized that she was in danger, she had looked for a place to hide. There was no use in banging on the gate and calling out like the others. Unfortunately, she had walked straight into Zuzeca’s arms. He had immediately recognized her, and had taken her with him, telling her that they were going to get married after all. That same day he had taken an advance on the wedding night.
Ghalatea let out a tiny squeal. If she closed her eyes, she could envision every detail of the ceiling in Zuzeca’s bedroom. The memory brought back the pain. He had been looking at her face the entire time, with a dirty smile on his lips. She was nothing but a trophy to the pontifex. A Purified woman to add to his collection of women. Decades ago, Margal’s followers had taken away Ghalatea’s family as well as her beauty. Now the pontifex had humiliated her even more profoundly by taking her body.
Ghalatea sighed and gazed with fear at Kasimirh as he stared straight at her. “Come over here,” he called.
Ghalatea looked around but didn’t see a way out. She reluctantly got up and walked towards him. Zuzeca turned around. “Ah, it’s my new wife,” he said mockingly.
Ghalatea clenched her fists.
“I thought you had left Nadesh,” Kasirmirh said, sounding surprised.
Ghalatea shook her head.
“She’s not wearing the sign that indicates that she’s been converted,” Kasimirh said to Zuzeca.
“She will. There are so many new things for her to adjust to. Like her role within my family, for instance.”
Ghalatea clenched her teeth. She was being treated like a house slave. The other women looked down on her, because she had been Purified but also because of her age. Ghalatea suspected that some of the women even saw her as competition.
“You skipped the most important part.” Kasimirh looked at her again. Ghalatea cast down her eyes. “Who do you believe in, Ghalatea?”
Staring at her feet, she thought about her answer. She had known that she was going to be asked this question one day. During her rare interactions with Merzians outside the palace, she had learned about what was happening in the city. Every Merzian was given a choice: convert or die. If the Merzians chose the first option, their names were immediately written in water. The new followers were subsequently led away to camps to commence their studies.
When someone refused to join the new faith, immediate action was taken as well. Headstrong citizens were killed on one of the execution sites spread across the city.
“I believe in Lord Jakob,” Ghalatea whispered. Then she looked at Kasimirh. Jakob was one of the Gods she believed in.
“As the only God?”
She nodded slowly. She hoped he couldn’t tell that it was a lie.
Kasimirh stood up and put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, because she expected him to do something bad to her.
“That makes me happy,” Kasimirh said with a smile on his face. He motioned for her to follow him.
“I want her to stay here,” Zuzeca said.
“Certainly not. She has to commence her studies.”
“She can study here.”
Kasimirh shook his head. “You haven’t even finished your studies yet.”
“But she’s going to by my wife.”
Kasimirh stopped and turned around. He looked at Zuzeca over Ghalatea’s head. “You have more than enough women.” He gave Ghalatea a reassuring nod and walked on.
Confused, Ghalatea followed him. She felt grateful, but at the same time wanted to hate him. This man had killed her king and ruined her life.
Ghalatea thought back to the stories that Lilith had told her about Kasimirh. The dragon shifter was afraid of him, but that hadn’t been the only reason why Lilith had blindly obeyed him. Ghalatea scrutinized Kasimirh from behind. He was tall, and despite leaning on his staff, he took long, self-assured strides. His hair looked silver in the sunlight. In a way, he reminded her of Yvar. He commanded attention with his appearance. His attitude attracted power, something with which Yvar had always been uncomfortable, as if he’d rather turn his back on that power.
Ghalatea knew she had to be careful around Kasimirh and not let herself be taken in by him. To her immense relief, he stopped a man on the street. The man was wearing the orange stole of a teacher.
“This woman has just joined Jakob,” Kasimirh said. “Take her with you and have her name written down.”
Ghalatea looked over her shoulder as she walked away from Kasimirh. He stared after her before he stepped into a coach.
The man guided her through a city that was unrecognizable to her. The high-rise buildings had collapsed, and debris lay scattered in the streets. As they travelled further from the palace, only the buildings’ burned skeletons still stood upright. There was rubble and broken household goods everywhere. Everything was covered by a layer of ashes. There was nothing that reminded her of the old Nadesh, the city that had reflected Merzia’s beauty.
Ghalatea wiped away her tears. Nadesh still reflected the rest of the country. With Yvar gone and Ferhdessar as leader, Merzia would never be the same again.
The man brought Ghalatea to a square where Jakobinian priests presented the Merzians with their choice. Ghalatea looked away from the execution site. Even children were brought there. Her hatred for Kasimirh rekindled as she was led past the row of waiting Merzian’s. Kasimirh had the heathens killed in the exact same way as her parents had been killed in the name of the Goddess Margal. Their throats were slit with one wave of a sword.
“This woman has converted,” said the man who had accompanied Ghalatea.
The woman standing behind the bowl of water gave her a friendly smile. Her stole had the same colour as Kasimirh’s. “What’s your name?” As Ghalatea answered, she realized that she should have given a fake name. That would have made the ritual meaningless. With mixed feelings she watched the woman write her name in the water. It was a relief that the letters immediately faded into illegible black curls. With a quick prayer, Ghalatea let the twelve Gods know that she hadn’t forgotten about them.
Ghalatea was loaded onto a cart with other converts. She greeted them, but no one responded. Most of them were staring at their feet. Only a few looked at the newcomer from the corners of their eyes. Ghalatea shivered. The silence was born out of fear. Even the children were quiet.
She felt anxious, too. Were they out of danger, or were they going to be punished because, according to the Jakobinians, they had been living in sin all those years? For now, they had escaped death, but what challenges were still to come?
A woman and her three children climbed onto the cart, and it set in motion. They rode through the ruined streets, but also passed places where reconstruction had started. At long last, they arrived at a gate. Behind it lay a park where Ghalatea used to love to go.
A group of Jakobinians was waiting for the new converts. Ghalatea climbed out of the cart, and a woman beckoned to her and the mother with the three children.
“My name is Dinak. I’ll show you the way around the camp and teach you the rituals.” The woman was wearing a yellow stole. Ghalatea asked her what that meant. “I haven’t had enough training to become a teacher or a priest, yet, but I did copy Jakob’s book already.” She motioned for the foursome to follow her. “There’ll be a ceremony tonight where you’ll receive your stoles.”
“A light-grey one,” Ghalatea said.
Dinak nodded.
They entered a tent. Dinak pointed at the corner. “I’ve made your beds. We share this tent with two other women and two children.” Dinak turned to Ghalatea. “I see that you didn’t bring anything, but we’ve collected enough clothes for everyone to use. We share everything we have, so that no one will miss out.”
Ghalatea nodded. But then the weight of what had happened hit her. She sank down onto a mattress and clasped her hands in front of her eyes. Tears streamed down her face. Dinak sat down next to her. After a brief hesitation she put her arm around Ghalatea.
When Ghalatea had
calmed down a bit, she looked at Dinak. “So this will be my home from now on?”
Dinak nodded. “It may be smaller than what you were used to, but trust me, in every way your life will become richer than it has ever been.” Ghalatea smiled through her tears. She looked around the tent. The other woman looked at her. She was holding her children close. Only now, did Ghalatea realize that she didn’t have to go back to Zuzeca. Kasimirh had saved her from that nightmare.
“Jakob, with these words I turn to You. I believe in the miracles that You have performed, and cherish the life that You have given us. I promise to live the way You wish.”
Ghalatea and the other newcomers were standing in front of a few priests. The sentences were read out loud, but Ghalatea didn’t repeat all the words. However, with the Jakobinians supervising them closely, she didn’t dare take too much risk. She had seen an execution site near the entrance to the park.
“I believe with all my heart that You are the True God, Creator of the world and the people, Keeper of knowledge. I thank You for the Light in my life.”
There was a silence. The priest in charge shook his head. He beckoned the mentors. Dinak came to stand opposite Ghalatea.
“Again!” the priest commanded. “With conviction this time.”
Ghalatea had lost her courage, so this time she said all the words out loud. The priest nodded his satisfaction. A shiver ran down Ghalatea’s spine. Nevertheless, she gave a coy smile when Dinak hugged her.
“I’m so happy for you,” she said as she draped Ghalatea’s stole over her shoulders.
It sounded sincere. Ghalatea felt that Dinak believed she had personally delivered her from the darkest dungeon. Beforehand, Ghalatea had intended to ask the woman why she believed, but now she decided not to ask her. This woman was convinced that Jakob was the True God. Maybe the study that Kasimirh had talked about meant that they were going to brainwash her. She shivered.
7
Kasimirh was standing on the edge of the rock pillar, watching the sun come up from behind the horizon. The birds in the trees welcomed the new day with him. The buds of the meadow salsifies opened at his feet. The yellow flowers smelled lovely.
Born in Light Page 5