FIVE FULLY armed Scabs led Thomas into the Thrall through a back entrance. The entire structure was built with the original Thrall in mind. Without the option of colored wood, Ciphus had used mud and then covered the mud with dyed thatch work—Horde handiwork. The large circular floor in the domed auditorium was green, again dyed thatch work instead of the glowing resin once shaped by the hands of innocent men. Hundreds of worshipers lay prostrate around the circumference, with only their heads and hands in the green circle.
It was as if they were paying homage to this green lake.
The primary departure from the original Thrall was the large statue of the winged serpent, which stood on top of the dome. A smaller replica hung from its crest inside.
This was Teeleh’s Thrall.
Thomas was pushed past the auditorium into a hall and then into a side office, where a single hooded man stood with his back to the door, staring out of a small window. The door closed behind Thomas.
He stood in chains before a large wooden slab, a desk of sorts, bordered on each side with bronze statues of the winged serpent. Candles blazed from two large candlesticks, spewing their oily smoke to the ceiling.
The man turned slowly. Thomas’s first thought was that Ciphus had become a ghost. The powder on his face was as white as the robe he wore, and his eyes only a shade darker.
The high priest stared at him like a cat, emotionless, arms folded into draping sleeves that hid his hands.
“Hello, Thomas.”
Thomas dipped his head slightly. “Ciphus. It’s good to see you, old friend.”
For a long time the high priest just looked at him, and Thomas refused to speak again. He would play and win this purposeful game.
Ciphus stepped to a tall flask on his desk and gripped its narrow neck with his long white fingers. He was wearing the same powder as Chelise and her mother had worn, Thomas guessed. The cracked skin was still visible beneath, but not in the same scaly fashion that characterized the scabies.
The priest poured a green liquid into a chalice. “Drink?”
“No, thank you.”
“You sure? It’s fruit juice.”
“We have fruit, Ciphus. Have you tasted it?”
“Your bitter seeds? Your preference for that should be the first indicator that you’ve lost your senses. The birds and the animals eat bitter seeds eagerly. So do you.” He took a sip of the fruit juice.
“Do the seeds eaten by animals also heal them?” Thomas asked.
“No. But animals don’t practice sorcery. Which is the one clear indication that you’re not truly animals either. So then, what are you, Thomas? You’re clearly no longer human; one look at your flesh is proof enough. And you’re not really an animal like they all say. Then what are you? Hmm? Other than enemies of Elyon?”
“We are the followers of Justin, who is Elyon.”
“Please, not in here,” Ciphus said with lips drawn. “We are in his temple; I will not have you utter such blasphemy here.” He set the glass down carefully. “You requested an audience. I assume that you intend to beg for your life. You defy me and my council when you have your sword, and now you beg at my feet when I have you in chains, is that it?”
“You don’t have me in chains. Qurong does.”
“And where is Justin now? I would have thought he would come riding in on a white horse to draw a protective line in the sand for you.”
“You can’t go on pretending that nothing happened when you killed him, Ciphus.”
“Martyn killed him!” Ciphus snapped. “Your precious Johan killed him!”
“And you allowed him to. Johan has found new life. You still live in your death.”
“You’re wrong. Justin’s death proves that you’re wrong. Only a simpleton could ever be convinced that Elyon would die. Or could die, for that matter. You live in this silly condition of yours because of your own foolishness in following Justin’s charade. It is Teeleh’s judgment against you.”
“Teeleh’s judgment?”
“Don’t try your trickery on me,” Ciphus snapped. “Elyon has judged you.”
“You said Teeleh’s judgment.”
“I would never even speak that name in the holy place. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
He hadn’t heard himself. He wasn’t only blind to the truth; he was deaf. A man to be pitied, not hated.
“Justin’s alive, Ciphus. One day, sooner or later, you’ll see that. He will not rest until his bride returns to him.”
“What nonsense are you talking about now? What bride?”
“That is what he calls us. You. Any who would embrace his invitation to the Great Romance.”
“By drowning? How absurd!”
“By dying to this disease that hangs off your skin and blinds your eyes. By finding a new life with him.”
Ciphus frowned and paced along his desk, hands behind his back.
“How did you turn the lake brown?” Thomas asked.
“We drained the defiled water and filled the lake from the spring. We had to get back to the Great Romance; I’m sure you understand. The people went two weeks without bathing, and it was only by the grace of Elyon that he didn’t punish us for our indiscretion. An indiscretion that was yours, may I remind you.”
“So you’re all back to normal here. Bathing away a disease that remains.”
“The disease is in the mind, not the skin, you fool. It manifests itself in the cult of yours. What do you call it? The Circle?”
“It represents the circle of marriage.”
“So you are married to Elyon?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“And what manner is that?”
“In the same way that he is a lion or a lamb or a boy or Justin.”
Ciphus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Elyon, give me strength. I can see that you will insist on dying. I had hoped I could help you see sense, Thomas. I really had. The supreme leader listens to me, you know. I may have been able to turn him.”
“And you still may.”
“Not now. Not with your stubborn heart.”
“I’m not suggesting you turn him for my sake,” Thomas said. “For yours.”
“Hmm? Is that right? I, arguably the most powerful man alive, need your help? How benevolent of you.”
“Yes. In all of this building with mud and dabbling in your new lake, you may have missed a point.”
Ciphus stared at him. “Go ahead.”
“You are not the most powerful man in the world, though arguably you should be. Unfortunately, you are simply a pawn of Qurong’s.”
“Nonsense!”
“He tolerates you as matter of expedience. His motives are purely political.”
“This talk will win you an execution!”
“I’ve already won an execution. Surely you see what I’m saying, Ciphus. I just came from Qurong’s castle. He has no shred of interest in the Great Romance. He knows that making his people subject to a higher power will only strengthen his power over them. He is using you to put a hold on his people.”
“There always has been a tension between politics and religion, hasn’t there?” Ciphus said. “When you were in your right mind, did the people follow you, or did they follow me?”
“We followed Elyon. The Great Romance was always first! And now you’ve let that monster in the castle make a fool of you by putting you underneath him.”
Ciphus froze halfway through Thomas’s point, perhaps as much in fear of being overheard as because of any chord it struck in him. Thomas had to walk a thin line.
“No?” he pushed. “Then consider this: when you decided to allow Justin’s execution, I was powerless to stop you. Your word was above mine. But if you now tell Qurong that the council has decided his castle must be torn down, would he do it? I think he might tear down your Thrall instead.”
“This is the talk of fools. It is a great privilege for me to serve the people—”
“You mean Qurong. You are the slave of Qurong, Ciphus. Even your blind eyes can see that.”
The priest slammed his fist on the table. “And you think that can be changed?” he shouted.
“Good,” Thomas breathed. “Then you do see it. Elyon won’t be the toy of any man, not even Qurong. How dare you allow him to make the Great Romance his tool? He’s reduced your great religion to nothing more than shackles to harness the will of his people. It makes a mockery of Elyon. And of you.”
“Enough!” Ciphus had regained control of himself. He set his jaw and folded his arms. “This is pointless. I think our time is over.”
“Yes,” Thomas said.
Ciphus looked momentarily off guard by Thomas’s quick agreement. He dipped his head. “Then you will—”
“Yes, I may have a way to change the imbalance of power between you and Qurong.”
The priest’s eyes skittered to the door. He blinked rapidly. “You should leave before you earn my drowning as well.”
“Exactly. Qurong would drown the high priest for simple words against him. He has it backward. You should have the power to drown him for words against the Great Romance.”
Ciphus wasn’t ready to capitulate. He knew how dangerous this talk was, because he knew that Thomas spoke the truth. Ciphus did serve Qurong. He needed to see the way out before hinting at any agreement.
“The Books of History have a power that is beyond Qurong,” Thomas said in a soft voice. “These holy Books may restore the power of the Great Romance to its rightful place. Politically speaking. And with it, you.”
A wry smile twisted Ciphus’s lips. “Then you don’t know, do you? The Books of History, which you were so desperate to find, aren’t even legible. Your ploy here has failed.”
“You’re wrong. They are legible, and I can read them.”
“Is that right? Have you ever seen even one of the Books?”
“Yes. And I can read it as if I myself had written it.”
The smile faded.
“I also know there are blank Books. They contain a power that would change everything. And I know how to use them.”
“How did you know about the blank Books?”
Thomas had guessed that there were more; now he knew. “I know more than you can possibly guess. My interest in the Books of Histories isn’t as frivolous as you think. Now they may save both of our lives.”
Ciphus picked up his chalice and drank. “You don’t realize how bold these statements are.”
“I have nothing to lose. And with what I will propose, neither do you.”
He emptied the glass and set it down, refusing to make eye contact. “Which is?”
“That you take me to the Books of Histories and let me prove their power.”
“Qurong would never allow it. And even if he did, how do I know you wouldn’t use this power against me?”
“The Books are truth. I can’t use the truth against the truth. You represent truth, don’t you? Have I harmed even one man since Justin’s death? I am a trustworthy man, Ciphus, mad or not.”
The priest eyed him cautiously. “Qurong won’t allow it.”
“I think he would if the request was properly phrased. It’s a matter of the Great Romance. But do you need his permission?”
A light crossed the priest’s eyes. He paced, stroking his chin.
“You’re sure you can read the Books.”
“I’m sure. And I’m sure that you have nothing to lose by testing me. If I’m wrong, you will simply return me to the dungeon. If I can’t demonstrate the power, you will do the same. But if I’m right, we will change history together.”
“And why would you want to change history with me?”
“I don’t necessarily. I want to live. That is my price. If I’m right, you will ensure the survival of me and my friends.”
Thomas knew that Ciphus probably couldn’t or wouldn’t ensure any such thing. He also knew that there was probably no power to show Ciphus. Using one of the blank Books might change things in the other reality—good reason for this plan in and of itself—but the Books would prove powerless here.
No matter. These weren’t his primary objectives. He was following another thread. A very thin thread, granted, but a thread.
“Even if I’m wrong about the power, the ability to read the Books of History will give a new power by itself.”
“So you can show me how to read them?”
Thomas smiled. “You haven’t been listening. You have no idea what you have in your hands, do you? I am your path to the power that’s justly yours.”
Ciphus picked up his glass, drained the last of the fruit juice, set it down firmly, and walked toward the door. “Then we go.”
“Now?”
“What better time? You’re right; I don’t need Qurong’s permission. I have access to the library. I will say that I’m taking you there to extract a full confession from you in writing and to interrogate you on several writings we’ve found from your Circle.”
“I will only show you what I know on one condition.”
“Yes, I know. Your life. First the Books.”
“No, one other condition. I insist that a third party be present.”
“What on earth for?”
“My protection. I want a party to witness our agreement. Someone who’s disconnected from your own authority yet has enough authority to corroborate.”
“Impossible! It would be tantamount to telling Qurong that I’m working against him!”
“Then choose someone who wants to see the Books of Histories unveiled as much as you do. Surely there’s someone Qurong respects enough to listen to in the event you turn against me, yet who doesn’t pose a threat to you.”
“I don’t see it. If you show another person this power, what value is it to me?”
“I won’t show them the power. I’ll only demonstrate that I can read the Books. This will be enough for them. How about his wife?”
“Patricia. She would just as soon shove a knife into my belly as bathe in the lake.”
“Then who is taken with the histories?”
“The librarian, Christoph. But he’s hardly better. I don’t see the value of this absurd demand. If I’m to trust you, then you’ll have to trust me.”
“You have reason to trust me. My actions have never undermined you. I, on the other hand, have enough reason to question you.”
Ciphus strode deliberately back to his desk. “Then we have no agreement.”
“Surely there’s someone in the royal court who has enough interest in the histories to bend the rules a bit.”
“The royal court is a very small community. There’s his wife and his daughter and . . .” Ciphus faced him. “His daughter’s quite taken with the histories.”
“The one who’s to marry Woref? Chelise. Fine, I don’t care who it is as long as she is impartial and has a love for the Books. There’s no risk to you. We won’t tell her that you intend to overthrow her father, only that you’ve agreed to make my case to Qurong if I can indeed reveal the knowledge contained in the Books. Out of respect to Qurong, you refuse to bother him with the matter until you’ve verified that I have something to offer.”
“No more talk of overthrowing!” Ciphus whispered harshly. “I said no such thing! It’s strictly as you said—I’m following up this matter with full intentions of bringing it to Qurong’s attention if it has any merits.”
“Of course. And you may send Chelise out of the room when it comes time for me to show you the power of the Books.”
Ciphus frowned. “Guards!” he called.
“Agreed?” Thomas asked.
“I’ll speak with her.”
The door opened a few moments later and two guards walked in.
“Return the prisoner to the dungeons.”