Twenty-Three: Divination

Ra let the sound of Jak’s deep breathing lull her, unaware she was sleeping until she began to dream. Her dreams had been strange before her memories returned, but now they were full of wild images from the Meeric flow. The unconscious mind was an excellent medium for the unformed matter from which the Meer created.

She stood in a room of mirrors, like the hall in which MeerRa had once shattered them with a word, unable to shatter himself. But the mirrors were closing in, forming a tightening shape around her that made her heart race with claustrophobic dread. It reminded her of the grave.

There was no light in this room, but images began to take shape in the darkened glass. Instead of her own reflection in the glass, a boy crouched on the floor where her reflection ought to be, drawing on the tile. He had no ink or paint, and no implement to draw with. He was drawing pictures in blood, and the blood came from his eyes.

He studied her as if she were the subject of his art, pale blue irises intent and wide, but his face passive. An untidy braid of platinum hair fell down his back to his heels, dull, as if it were not often washed. He had a lovely face, streaked as it was with Meeric tears.

As he sketched the curves and lines of his drawing in the blood, he began to realize his subject was watching him back, and he slowly came to a halt. He looked up at her and reached out a hand to touch his side of the glass, leaving a bloody smear.

“Ra,” he said, in the breathiest, smallest voice she’d ever heard.

She crouched down in front of him, and he looked as if he might jump away. “Who are you?” This did make him jump, but he stayed where he was.

He hesitated. “Pearl.” She might not have heard the whisper if she hadn’t seen his lips move.

Ra smiled. He looked like a pearl. She touched the glass where his hand still rested, and he grabbed for her as if he could reach her, striking his wrist and making a wordless gasp of pain. The dark tears began to flow anew.

“It’s all right, Pearl,” she said, though of course it wasn’t. This wasn’t a dream. It was a vision they shared. He was trapped in this place, and it was real.

At the sound of his name, he slipped forward onto his knees, his face alight with wonder and fear, as if he’d never heard it before from anyone else. He pressed his cheek against the glass, stroking the smooth surface with both hands.

“Pearl,” he whispered again. “Pearl!”

A perfect pearl took shape in Ra’s hand. She closed her palm around it. “Where are you, Pearl? Where is this place?”

Pearl sat back, looking thoughtful. He closed his eyes and immediately sank into a trance state. She’d never seen any Meer do it so seamlessly or completely—though, of course, she hadn’t known many Meer. After a moment, he emerged from it just as smoothly. He dipped his finger in the blood and began to paint upon the glass, and a temple of domes and spires took shape beneath his finger in such fantastic, fine detail there was no mistaking it. It was Ludtaht Alya, temple of the former Meer of Soth In’La.

Ra’s lips parted to name it, but a door in the mirrored glass opened on Pearl’s side, and Pearl scrambled into the far corner in fear. Ra was puzzled. Whom could he fear so? Why did he not speak to protect himself? A golden-robed prelate—like Vithius, well fed—stepped in and closed the door, and smiled at Ra as if he too could see her. This was a strange vision.

“Here you are at last,” he said. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Prelate Nesre of In’La.” He gave her a slight bow of his head, hand on his chest, as if he were acknowledging some obeisance to himself. “You may not know my name now, but it will soon be famous throughout the Delta as the man who wrote the final chapter of the Expurgation when he captured the fugitive MeerRa.”

She raised an eyebrow as she stood to meet him eye to eye. “I believe you are overconfident, Prelate Nesre. You have not captured me. I am not in Soth In’La.”

“I know very well where you are. My men are waiting on the riverbank outside the Court of Rhyman to bring you to me.”

Ra laughed, but her laughter was cut short when Nesre grabbed Pearl by the base of his braid and yanked him forward on his knees, holding a knife beneath his chin.

“And you will come,” said Nesre. “Without protest. Without harming my men. Without speaking a Meeric word. Or I will cut the child’s throat.”

Ra’s blood was swelling with an urge to be released through her tongue, a word of power spoken, to burst this oily toad’s head like a melon, but the blade was sharp enough that he might take the boy with him, and she wasn’t sure her word would carry through a vision.

“Who is he?” she asked instead. “How do you come to have him in your power?”

“It’s not a ‘he’, it’s an it,” he said contemptuously. He pulled the dirty shift up to expose the boy, revealing he had no genitalia, only a thin scar as evidence that he once had.

The blood was pounding in Ra’s chest.

“It belongs to me,” said Nesre. “I had it bred.”

Ra slapped her hands against the glass in fury. “Why?”

“For divination, of course. It found you, after all. I have known since the disappearance of your body from Rhyman that the world was not rid of you. I’ve kept an eye out for you. My little Meeric pearl saw you and brought you to me as a projection of its vision—with a little help from the Meeric relics I retain of its predecessor.” The latter declaration made Ra’s stomach churn, and she didn’t bother to ask for elaboration. Nesre dropped Pearl’s shift back down to cover him, wrapping his fingers once more in the braid. “It has been a most effective tool.”

“And what do you want of me?”

The prelate laughed, loosening his hold on the boy’s hair, though the knife stayed firmly against his skin. “What does anyone want of a Meer? Vetmaaimeerra. Beyond that, I want you eradicated.” He stroked Pearl’s head absently, like a pet. Or livestock. “And I know what you’re thinking, of course; one doesn’t need to be a Meer to divine it. You think you’ll come here pretending to acquiesce to my demands until you’re within range of a word.” He smiled. “Don’t imagine I’m a fool. I will ask one vetma of you now, and in giving it, you will be powerless. And you’ll give it, because you’re a softhearted woman who doesn’t wish to watch the blood pour out of a child’s throat as it dies on her behalf.”

Ra tried to still the rapid breathing of her anger. “What vetma?”

“Give your word that you will speak no harm to me or to any of my men, nor raise a hand against us—or send anyone to do it for you or even breathe a word of our arrangement—and I will spare the child.”

Ra had to acknowledge that he was indeed no fool. A vile worm, perhaps, but not a fool. If she spoke, her word couldn’t be taken back, and it would carry the absolute power of her Meeric will. What he didn’t know, however, was that dying was of no consequence to her. He was really asking little. To save Pearl from such a man, from such a life, was well worth the sacrifice. Prelate Nesre was right. She couldn’t refuse. But she was no fool either.

“I will give you my word,” she said. “With one condition.” A frown of mistrust creased the prelate’s forehead. “I will deliver myself to you, and I will speak no harm nor raise a hand to you or your men, but you will give the boy his freedom and send no one after him to harm him or take him back. You will let him live in peace.” She had spoken, and there was no way Nesre could change the terms of her surrender. He either accepted them, or the agreement dissolved.

She saw him consider it, working other means of reaching his desired end in his head. At last, he nodded, a practical man. “Done. The child is an imbecile and can only speak one word. The word that brought you here, in fact—your name. It is inconsequential.”

Ra looked at Pearl’s eyes watching her, like pieces of pale blue topaz set in his alabaster face. He was not inconsequential. He was something precious to be cherished. Meer or not, he was an expression of the divine.

The vision dissolved, and Ra found herself standing at her window, staring at the dark Anamnesis. She turned to look at Jak, supine and satisfied. Her cheeks warmed pleasantly as she thought of what had given Jak such satisfaction. It was a pity there wouldn’t be time for more.

The corner of Ra’s mouth turned up as she realized she’d left Jak bare above the covers, the shirt still drawn up to expose the delicate teacup breasts. She sighed and covered them, placing a kiss on the sleep-warm forehead. The rest of the temple still slept its deepened sleep, and she lowered Jak into it also.

But there was one person she must wake.

“Ahr.”

A voice disturbed his sleep, and he breathed in deeply and stretched as he opened his eyes, thinking for a moment he was still a girl in the teahouse. And then he saw her. Ahr sat up with a frown. He hadn’t had any intention of saying good-bye to her. If she was waking him to see her off—

“I need you to do something for me.”

Ahr pulled his knees up under the covers, hooking his arms around them. “What now?”

“There’s something I must do. I have to leave. I wasn’t expecting to.”

“What do you mean? You’re leaving with Jak.”

Ra shook her head. “I have to go alone.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, Ra! Stop toying with Jak.”

“I told you, I wasn’t expecting to. I’m very sorry to go, but this is important. More important than Jak’s feelings. And Jak’s feelings are very important to me, make no mistake.”

Ahr swung his legs over the bed on the opposite side from her, pacing away. “You’re not making any sense.”

“I’m going to kill the Prelate of In’La.” She said it as if she were merely speaking of taking a walk in the moonlight. “And I’m afraid it means going down with him.”

Ahr stopped pacing and stared at her. She was certifiably mad. He folded his arms, leaning back against the windowsill. “Is this what you do now, Ra? Haunt the Delta, taking your revenge on everyone who plotted the Expurgation? Why not kill me?”

Ra sighed. “I wish I could make you understand. I wish I could ever have made you understand anything of me.” She looked sad for a moment, which he hated. “I wish I could have understood you, Ahr.” He looked away. He would not be swayed by her. “But it’s all right. It doesn’t matter. Just let the others know when they wake up that I had to go. Tell Merit he’s not to pursue me. Tell him I have spoken. And Jak…just stop Jak from trying to circumvent my word. Even if you have to use force. I’m sure poor Geffn won’t be a problem. I think he’s had enough of me.”

“You really are out of your mind.”

Ra smiled. “That’s all right.”

Ahr shook his head, baffled by her. “Why are you coming to me with this? Why tell me any of it? Just go wake them up and tell them yourself. It’s nothing to me.”

“I’m telling you, Ahr, because you are the only one who won’t try to stop me.” Ra turned and left him more confounded and troubled by her than he’d ever been.

Deepening the sleep of those within the temple was one thing. The amount of energy it would have taken to extend her word beyond its walls was more than Ra could summon. She returned to her tower, casting one last glance of longing at Jak’s sleeping form before stepping out onto the terrace. Sneaking out of Ludtaht Ra was something she’d never had any need to do—though MeerRa had contemplated it once when he’d despaired of ever seeing Ahr again. If he could have run away with the maiden Ahr a lifetime ago, where would they be now? RaNa would be—

Ra cut off the thought viciously. She couldn’t think of RaNa. That way lay madness.

She hoisted herself over the balustrade and dropped onto the thin lip on the other side. From here, she could see the silhouettes of agitators at the courtyard’s edge against the torchlight. In’La’s gas lamps and electric current had not yet come to Rhyman. Drawing up the cowl of her cloak, she jumped, tumbling among the petals of flowering trees that scattered along the river’s edge and coming to a stop just short of careening into the water. A bone snapped in her foot. Perhaps several. Ra conjured healing and got to her feet.

As Nesre had promised, his men were waiting for her on the bank of the Anamnesis beyond the flowering grounds of Ludtaht Ra. She delivered herself to them at the river’s edge—where they bound her arms and her mouth, not quite trusting of her word—and a boat propelled by steam carried them down the sluggish Anamnesis, farther away from Temple Ra with every turn of its large paddlewheel.