THE CRONE WAS the first to the hastily called morning meeting of the Voices. She was glad because it gave her time to sit, arrange herself, compose her thoughts.
After reports started pouring in about the fires and the killing of the Forsaken, the Crone had knelt most of the night at Ivanha’s altar, keeping her feli close, waiting for word from Ivanha. The answer, when it came, was more of a feeling than direct communication, but at least, after months of silence, it was something.
Ivanha and the rest of the deities had been blocked from using the feli to communicate with their Voices by the One except in dire situations. It was punishment for their handling of the pledge class last spring. She was glad to have an emergency, so she could once again direct matters in Illian. Ivanha was not disturbed by the actions of the Templar. She felt disgust toward the Forsaken and approval for the new Templar.
The Crone wished she could agree. The scouts she sent out described families cut down running from the fires. Children smothered and dead by smoke where the fires hadn’t roasted them. Ivanha was supposed to be the protector of women and children, but when the Crone hinted at that, she got a flash of anger and the feeling that the Forsaken were not women and children of Ivanha.
The Crone sighed and rested her head on her hand, leaning on the table. Her request to train a replacement had been rejected as well, and Ivanha had sent warm feelings of approval and love to the Crone to encourage her. But the Crone was tired and feeling older by the day. What had been an enviable position in peace was an exhausting one in times of unrest. The Crone was doubting her deity at a time when she needed to believe in Ivanha wholeheartedly.
The door opened. The Crone sat upright, her face serene as the Tribune entered, with the young pledge, Jonas, following at his heels. The Crone was relieved that though the Tribune had the new Voice with him, there were no feli in sight. The Herald strode in after them, looking angry and frustrated.
The apprentice Voice helped the frail Tribune to his seat, then took a chair against the wall behind the Tribune. His bright eyes darted around the room, taking in everything, and the Crone was reminded just how much energy a youngster in his twenties had. She idly wondered what he thought of these old sticks he was suddenly stuck dealing with and smiled slightly.
“I don’t see anything amusing about this situation,” the Herald snapped.
The Crone sobered and lifted an eyebrow. “Nor do I,” she said dryly.
“Then what are you smiling about?”
The Crone nodded toward the new Voice. “Just thinking what a lot of crotchety old sticks we must seem to Parasu’s Voice in training.”
The Herald stared at her a moment, then barked a surprised laugh. Jonas blushed as they looked at him. He cleared his throat.
“I see decades of accumulated knowledge,” Jonas said respectfully. “I aspire to learn quickly and represent Parasu to the best of my ability.”
The Crone nodded in approval at his diplomacy as the Herald grinned at the boy. Before either could respond, the door opened, and the Templar strode in. He brought in the scent of soot and sweat and wore a rumpled tunic.
“Let’s make this quick,” he said abruptly, standing by his chair. “I have to get back out and supervise the cleanup.”
“The mass burials, you mean,” the Herald said bluntly. “Of the people your men murdered.”
He shot her a contemptuous look. “They were Forsaken, not townspeople, and we did not start this fight,” he corrected. “My soldiers were trying to contain it. I didn’t see Aryn’s people helping in the aftermath. It was the Southern healers who came in, not yours.”
The Herald sputtered. “We were overwhelmed at the healing halls with townspeople overcome by smoke and Forsaken carrying their wounded. We sent healers as soon as we had some free.”
“Your soldiers butchered women and children who were just fleeing the flames,” the Crone said. “How can you justify that?”
The Templar glared at her. “And is Ivanha concerned about these Forsaken children, like you are?” he asked. The Crone looked away, and he laughed. “I didn’t think so.”
He finally sat and looked at them seriously. “Unfortunately, my men were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the Forsaken. After the previous day’s attacks and death of our soldier, they might have used more force than absolutely required. I will begin an investigation.”
“More force than required?” The Herald was incredulous. “They killed unarmed people who were merely running away.”
“They encountered a mass of people who were disobeying the law and did not listen when the soldiers ordered them to stop,” the Templar corrected. “One lone swordsman on foot or even on horseback can be pulled down and killed by an angry mob. Because of the riot, the soldiers believed Forsaken were the ones who set the fires and were then attacking them. It was an unfortunate accident. As I said, I will investigate and will conduct more training on riot control. That’s all we can do at this point.”
“What about the men who started the fires?” the Tribune asked. “They must be arrested so they can be brought to justice.”
The Templar’s jaw set. “We do not have enough evidence to charge anyone.”
“Not enough evidence!” the Herald shouted, pounding her hand on the table. “There were hundreds of witnesses. Even I have names, first-circle names, of the men involved, names that victims gave to my healers.”
“All you have are Forsaken witnesses.” The Templar waved his hand dismissively. “Their word cannot be used to arrest citizens. No townspeople have come forward as witnesses.”
The Crone looked over at the Tribune, who nodded gravely. “It is true. You must find credible witnesses, and the Forsaken cannot be considered such.”
“I don’t have time,” the Templar said, rising again. “I have a city on the edge of civil war and I have to be out there directing my men. The best possible outcome would be for the Forsaken to return to work and let this all pass over. If you have the time, maybe you can talk to your pet Forsaken and convince them to come back to work for you. Until then, I’ll be too busy for these conferences.”
He swept out, leaving the other three staring furiously in his wake.
“It didn’t take long for him to become as much of a prick as his predecessor,” the Herald growled. The Crone nodded in agreement.
The Tribune held up his hand. “Herald, please,” he nodded toward Jonas, who was missing nothing.
The Herald snorted. “He’ll have to learn sometime,” she said. “Better he learn now than be shocked later when you’re not there to guide him. How do we go forward?”
Jonas leaned forward. “Might I suggest some of Parasu’s scholars go to the scene and interview witnesses? Perhaps they will know of townspeople who saw the crime and will testify.”
The Tribune nodded. “A good thought. Since both Aryn and Ivanha have found our scholars useless in the kitchens and stables and sent them back”—he sent an ironic gaze to the two women—“this would better utilize their talents.”
“I’ll have my healers advise the Forsaken to return to their work,” the Herald said. “If we can get things to cool down, we can work compromises. I have created plans for the Forsaken review. I’ll have a courier deliver it to Parasu’s temple when I’ve reviewed it one more time. Nothing good can happen if the anger and violence keep escalating.”
The Crone shook her head. “Ivanha wants nothing to do with any of this,” she told the other two. “She has no interest in even the children of the Forsaken. But if your healers need help, I have some younger maidens who could help with distilling and cleaning. I will welcome back any Forsaken who wish to serve the Temple again, but I don’t think anything I could do will make them come back. It might inflame them more.”
The Herald looked surprised a moment. Then she leaned forward. “To be honest, Aryn isn’t as interested in the Forsaken as I’d like, either,” she said confidentially. “She knows many have been wrongly thrown into the Forsaken caste, though. She is more angry about the loss of followers than the health of those who have been already been removed from her following. I’m more appalled than she is.”
The Tribune nodded, then glanced back at his new Voice in training. “Note that, Jonas. The deities are created in the shape of humans, but they do not have the same feelings we do and so are not often moved to pity and compassion. They save their compassion for the followers who show them the most loyalty and service.”
“Noted,” Jonas said mildly.
He seemed a different sort of person than the Crone would expect Parasu to choose, especially compared to the Voice who served now. There was more active thoughtfulness behind those eyes, less dry remoteness. The Crone shook her head. Perhaps they’d all been more thoughtful, less dogmatic, when they’d been taken by their deities.
They rose, and the Crone took her leave, while the others stayed to discuss the panel the Herald was forming. As she walked back to her temple, the Crone thought about her own changing nature. This past year’s separation from her deity had let her revert a bit back to her younger self. When the deity took over her Voice, she left a part of that inhumanness behind, so the Voice could rule the Temple without too many emotions getting in the way. The Crone felt as though she were becoming more human with every day’s relief from hosting her deity. And she found she wanted to stay human, not to feel that cruel detachment anymore. The Crone wondered if it would be bearable to have her deity sharing her body and mind now that she’d known that period without her.
“THE HERALD CAME into the neighborhood trying to convince Forsaken to come back,” Farrah told Kadar. “We’ve convinced people to hold out, not return. Luckily, the Forsaken know who their real enemy is. Severin’s helped a lot with that—pointing out how the soldiers wouldn’t let us bury our own dead and buried them in a mass grave. That killed any chance of cooperation from us.”
Cleanup still continued in the Forsaken district. Kadar visited Farrah daily since the Forsaken were still on curfew and brought needed medical supplies and fresh produce. He’d worked a schedule out between Nabil, himself, and his cousins to deliver and collect the laundry to keep her in business.
The shanties were completely gone. The soldiers and city guard had cleared away all the burned wood and canvas, so all that remained was a blackened field. A fence had been erected at the edge of the field, a reminder that the Forsaken were not permitted to leave the city that hated them so much. The survivors from the shanties found homes with other Forsaken in the city, crowding the buildings.
Kadar learned that the city Forsaken had their own prejudices against the shanty Forsaken, and distrust between the two groups made for even tenser living arrangements. Farrah matched people to homes the best she could, but even with the unusually frequent rains, the main well was running low on water, and fights sprang up often.
A rare hard rain had come the evening after the massacre and washed much of the soot and blood out of the streets. Now rain was coming every other day, soaking the dry city but keeping temperatures down. The townspeople saw it as a sign that the One was washing away the blood of the innocents who were harmed and forgiving the soldiers. The Forsaken saw it as a sign the One was supporting them and giving them fresh, life-giving water. Both sides were so firmly entrenched, Kadar didn’t see how any compromise could be reached.
“Are you certain that’s for the best?” Kadar cautioned, speculating out loud. “Maybe the Temple would be more willing to make a deal if they saw some sort of cooperation?”
Farrah turned on him, furious. “And how have they compromised?” she asked Kadar. “By murdering us? By not allowing us to properly mourn the people they murdered?”
Kadar raised his hands in a ward off. “I’m just thinking out loud, Farrah,” he said. “If a few returned to their work, the curfew and restrictions might let up. Once the soldiers relax, we can think about easing the crowding by sneaking some of our more vulnerable people out. That would give us more time for the deities to come to agreement; it would also stop fighting among Forsaken and preserve the food.”
Farrah snorted. “I’ve already thought of a way to get people out without compromising, and Severin is gathering what we need as I speak,” she told him. “The worse thing we can do now is look weak.”
Kadar grimaced. Everything Kadar mentioned was met with scorn, as though he were suggesting they all slit their own throats. Farrah and Severin were feeding each other’s anger to the point where anything moderate was considered traitorous.
“Please tell me it doesn’t involve taunting soldiers,” Kadar said wearily. “We’ve already seen how that tactic backfired.”
“Did it?” Farrah asked. “I would say it backfired on the soldiers. The Forsaken are more determined than ever to win our freedom because of their violence.”
Kadar was horrified. “You can’t say the loss of hundreds of lives was a good thing!”
Farrah paused and looked off into the distance. She shook her head. “It is done now, good or bad. Our captors have shown us what they are capable of. It is time for us to show them we cannot be crushed. We cannot be held down, and our brothers and sisters have not died without purpose. The blood that has been shed makes us stronger, not weaker, and binds us into a whole.”
Kadar realized she wasn’t talking to him. She was rehearsing what she would say to the Forsaken to keep them motivated.
“Excuse me,” he broke in. “I’m not one of your followers. Stow your propaganda and talk to me. What are you planning?”
Farrah glared at him, “No, you aren’t a follower, are you? You aren’t committed to us. You want everything to go back to what it was before the massacre; you want safety for your people, peaceful captivity for mine.”
Kadar actually choked at the unfairness of that one. “Because I don’t want more people massacred, I’m not committed to the cause?” he spat out. “See the trees in the forest, Farrah. See the actual people who died and their families who mourn them. Every day I work with Forsaken, with townspeople, and with my own people. All of them are more than just masses, Farrah. They are individuals, who have families and dreams of a better future. I see a better future for you as well, but it needs to be a peaceful one. The violence needs to end.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Farrah hissed at him. “You’re helping me, not the Forsaken. You don’t have any interest in the cause. You want to make me a good little wife, and that’s all you want for me.” Farrah turned her back on him, crossing her arms over her chest, her back rigid with fury.
Kadar shook his head, stung, and left. He walked out without taking the laundry basket she wanted delivered. She could get Severin to carry it, or wait until one of his cousins dropped by. He wasn’t certain what this so-called plan was for getting the Forsaken out of the city, but it was clear she wasn’t going to tell him. And if she and Severin were planning more bloodshed, he wasn’t going to be a part of it.
The next afternoon, he dedicated time to the family business, letting his cousins make laundry deliveries while he played with Datura on a spread rug in the sales hall, giving her the attention she deserved. Kadar had brought Sanuri to the sales hall to get her out of Aunt Raella’s hair, and she was braiding belts in the back room. After the burnings and massacre, sales had been quiet as townspeople kept to their homes. The Hasifels had made more off that single day they’d introduced the new silks than they had in the entire winter season.
Uncle Tarik had convinced Aunt Raella to stay even though she’d wanted to take the boys and go to the desert. Kadar hadn’t realized that Aunt Raella was one of those desert folks who had come north because of love but always longed to go back to the desert. The tension in the city was now trampling her love for Uncle Tarik though he tried to placate her. By now there was as much tension between Uncle Tarik and Aunt Raella as between Kadar and Farrah.
A slender, deadly feline shadow slipped into the doorway and Kadar snatched up Datura and drew his knife. It took a moment to recognize Yaslin, Alannah’s white feli. The feli stopped and sat, as though presenting herself as harmless. Kadar was lowering his knife when Alannah ducked into the doorway.
Her eyebrows rose as she saw his drawn knife, and he put it down on the table.
“Sorry,” he said, gesturing for her to sit in a chair. “Caravan reflexes. The large mountain cats are deadly with babies and toddlers. She’s got the same shape.”
“No, I’m the one who is sorry,” Alannah said. She stayed standing and instead started gazing at the fabrics and goods for sale. “I should have sent a messenger ahead to warn you we were coming, or made an appointment. But the One impressed the urgency upon me, so I came without thinking.”
Kadar stepped up beside her. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“I should pick up some fabrics while I’m here,” Alannah said absently. “To make it look like I just had an urgent need to shop.”
“Because all Counselors shop for wild colors and printed silks,” Kadar said teasingly, eyeing her pale golden robe.
She finally looked directly at him and smiled. “We do wear things under these robes, you know,” she said, provoking a blush out of him. “And I do have family. My older sister’s birthday is next week. That’ll work.”
“What is it?” Kadar asked. “What are you trying to avoid saying?”
Alannah prowled the store again and then looked over at him. “I was hoping you’d tell me,” she admitted. “The One wanted me to come here, but she wanted me to come here to warn the Forsaken. I don’t know why she didn’t send me to the Forsaken district. That tells me perhaps you are more connected to the rebellion than anyone knows. And that perhaps you can send a message to someone in charge of this rebellion?” She looked pointedly at Datura, squirming to get down from Kadar’s arms.
Kadar set Datura down on the blanket, hiding his face while he gave his daughter the teething ring. If he admitted his connection to the rebellion, they’d know Farrah was in the movement and might go after her. But if the One was giving a warning, they probably really needed to know about it.
“The One isn’t going to harm the people you love, Kadar,” Alannah reassured him. “But she might have to step in if you don’t warn them they are angering her. She supports their freedom, but they must work it out on their own with the deities.”
Kadar sat on the floor beside Datura. “I can deliver a message,” he admitted, watching Datura teethe on her ring of twisted fabric. “But I can’t promise it will be heeded.”
“That’s all I want,” Alannah said. She paused and took a breath, closing her eyes, and Yaslin came by her side. She put a hand on the cat’s head as Kadar looked over. When she opened her eyes again they were completely black from iris to pupil. Kadar shivered.
Her tone was flat when she spoke again. “The One requires that no feli be harmed in this rebellion.” She paused as though listening and fumbling for the words to continue. “Four feli were killed last night. The One will not interfere if humans are killed, but feli are of the One. If one more feli dies at Forsaken hands, the rains will cease, the food stores will spoil, and sickness will sweep the district. If you comply, the feli will no longer be able to be used by soldiers to track the Forsaken.”
Kadar bit back a curse, not wanting his daughter to pick it up, as she was starting to lisp syllables. “That stupid plan. Those idiots.”
Alannah put a hand to her forehead and winced, and Kadar stood and led her to the chair. He ducked his head into the break room and mixed up some chai tea.
“So you know what is going on?” Alannah asked as Kadar handed her a mug. She sipped the tisane.
“I hope not,” Kadar said. “I hope I’m wrong.”
A yowl from the doorway made Alannah smile, and she put her fingers down coaxingly as Amber minced through the doorway, flame-striped tail held high. Kadar choked and started to rise as Sanuri came into the room, following the cat. The last thing they needed was a Temple Counselor knowing about Sanuri.
“Wait,” Alannah said softly, surprise and wonder suffusing her face. She set the tea down.
Sanuri ran over to Alannah and put her hands over the Counselor’s. They stayed that way a moment, staring into each other’s eyes like they were communicating mind to mind. Kadar reached with his own farspeaking, but could not feel any communication. He could see some sort of bond between them, though.
Sanuri spoke first, her red curls bobbing earnestly. “You are my Guardian.”
“Oh my goodness,” Alannah breathed. “Yes. I am yours. You are mine as well, little one. The One gives me to you.”
Sanuri clucked her tongue once, then shook her head, dropping her hands. “Not yet, silly,” she said. She wandered to the break room, leaving Alannah staring after her.
“You know what she is?” Kadar said cautiously.
“Yes, though I won’t name it here,” Alannah said. Amber arched against her still-outstretched hands, and Alannah looked down and petted the purring cat. “And I am bound to her, but bound to the One at the same time. I’m going to ask Elida what this means.”
“Is that wise?” Kadar asked. “Can Elida be trusted?”
Alannah nodded. “We are aware that the prophecy is beginning. Even if we hadn’t seen the lesser signs, poor Jonas’s elevation by Parasu is too huge a hint to be ignored.” She chuckled slightly and took a sip of her tea. “Jonas is almost beside himself worrying. It’s good to see the master of competence flummoxed.”
“So what will you do, now that you know about Sanuri?” Kadar asked. “She isn’t totally sane, you know.”
“She wouldn’t be,” Alannah said. “Being what she is. It’s stability she needs, not sanity, and clearly you’re giving it to her. She needs to go to the desert.”
“She says not yet,” Kadar said. “And Grandmother agrees.”
“So she does,” Alannah said, a smile quirking her lips. “And we are silly to say otherwise, so we will just wait.”
Kadar sighed. “I hate waiting,” he admitted. “Let’s get you some goods for your sister, on the house. I will spread your message as high up as I can get with the Forsaken.”
KADAR KNOCKED ON the door of the room Farrah used for pressing and collecting orders of laundry. He’d dropped Datura off at home when the sales hall closed and walked back to the Forsaken district through a soft rain, trying to plan what he would say to Farrah to make her see reason.
“Hold on,” Farrah’s voice said. He frowned as the door, which was usually ajar, unlocked and opened. “Oh, Kadar, come in.”
Kadar stepped in, and was surprised to see Severin leaning against the wall. Farrah closed the door and Kadar glanced between them. Farrah had a slight blush, and Severin’s clothes looked more rumpled than usual. He stepped forward before Kadar could open his mouth.
“We got six families out last night, twenty people,” Severin said. “It was a successful maneuver.”
Farrah nodded. “Severin was just telling me the feli were the key, exactly as I thought. I don’t like seeing innocent creatures harmed, but once they were taken out, the soldiers were easy, and our people escaped far into the night without fear of being tracked.”
She sounded proud, and Kadar stared at her, horrified.
“Farrah, think. Who are the One’s beloved?” he asked, ignoring Severin. “Who did the One create us for? The feli. They are sacred creatures. In killing them, you betray the One.”
Severin stepped up beside Farrah. “You don’t understand the cost of freedom,” he said. “Sometimes innocents suffer. A price has to be paid, so the Forsaken can be free.”
“You want to know the cost?” Kadar asked trying to keep his voice steady. “I had a visit from the Counselor of the One today. The One is warning you; the One is warning the Forsaken, Farrah. You are making an enemy of him by killing the feli.”
Farrah drew back from him, clearly frustrated. “And what has the One done for us?” she asked bitterly. “When has she protected us? When has she claimed us as her people? The One has never paid attention to us before.”
“Well, you have the One’s attention now,” Kadar said, disappointed. “And you might pay dearly for it. The One says that you will cease to kill the feli, starting now.”
“And what will happen if we don’t?” Severin shot back.
Kadar was disgusted by the question. “Then the rains will stop.” He waved to the pattering water outside. “The Forsaken will die of thirst. Your store of food will spoil, and disease will plague the entire neighborhood. The One has been looking after the Forsaken, whether you believe in him or not.” He started to leave, then paused and looked directly at Farrah. “And Farrah, the One says the feli will no longer be used as trackers by the soldiers from now on. So even in your disloyalty, the One gives you a gift. I hope you choose to be worthy.”
Farrah stared back at him, her expression defiant rather than chastened. Kadar left the two together; Farrah so close to Severin their sleeves were touching. He walked through the deepening dusk, welcoming the rain. Kadar’s words had not reached Farrah’s heart. He felt like the Farrah he knew and loved was dying, replaced by this cold, bloodthirsty woman he could not understand. Kadar took a longer route, past the Temple and through the merchant district, trying to cool his anger. He would go home and hold his daughter with a good heart, vowing he would protect her and make certain her future was bright.