24 

Father made no move to lift the sarcophagus lid. Instead, he knelt at the base of the tomb and pried at the narrow slab until a small door rasped open in the gloom. Soft-voiced, Dan exulted, “They thought I’d be too young to remember anything!”

Apparently not. Despite herself, Ela almost smiled. Trying to see, she held the shining branch near the small door, which shifted downward, shelflike.

Dan looked up at her. “Will you go first?”

No! “Why?”

“You’re carrying the prophet’s branch for light.”

Ela’s hands went cold and sweaty. Her mouth dried. Why did it have to be a tomb—even a false one? Was this where she would die? Infinite?

His answer was an unseen parental nudge. Go.

“All right.” Offering inward prayers, she knelt, slid the branch through the narrow entry, and looked inside. Three stone steps led down into a tawny dirt tunnel, its rough walls clawed through by gnarled, moisture-seeking roots.

As she hesitated, Father nudged her. “Go.”

Augh! Yes, both of you! I’m going. She scooted into the tunnel feet-first.

Dan shoved his old knapsack after her, followed by the two bundles she’d been carrying. “Take your parcels.”

Balanced on the stone steps, Ela set the supplies in the dirt below. When she looked up again, Father was holding Jess. “Take him before he yells. Your mother’s next.”

Jess blinked at the branch and at Ela, then whimpered. She tucked the branch into the crook of her arm, then cuddled Jess close. He nuzzled at her, making noises of complaint. “Mother’s coming,” Ela promised. Jess squirmed, adorable despite being hungry. If only . . . Ela tried to force down the hopeless longing.

If only she could hold Kien’s baby. Their baby. No, no, no. She couldn’t torment herself with thoughts of what might have been.

Kalme was on the steps now, Jess’s heavy carrying sling in her hands. “I’ll trade you,” she told Ela. Jess squalled the instant she spoke, his patience clearly outdone by hunger. Ela kissed his tender cheek and gave him to Kalme.

As Kalme settled Jess beneath her mantle, Ella tried to pull her thoughts away from babies and Kien. She slung Father’s old knapsack over her shoulders, then juggled the remainder of their belongings and the branch and cleared the narrow steps.

Prill descended next. Then Nesac climbed down and helped his wife. Deuel passed his gear through the entry and scrambled after it. By the time Dan edged inside and pulled the slab door shut, they were crowded within the dirt walls, the men uncomfortably hunched down. As the designated lightkeeper, Ela moved farther into the darkness.

Her feet slipped a bit on the sloping yellow dirt path. After several turns, the walls were nothing but barren-looking rock and soil, too deep for roots to penetrate. She called back to Dan, “Did your father dig this tunnel?”

“Some of it,” Dan admitted. “In secret. But it was hard work, with little reward. And if the authorities had caught him, he would have suffered heavy fines for illegal digging. Which is why he gave it up in favor of repairing Parne’s walls. His old friend continued to dig down here until he was too crippled to proceed. It’s amazing they were never caught.”

As they walked on, Deuel asked, “Were they looking for gems?”

“Yes. But as I’ve said, they earned almost nothing.”

Bitterness lacing his words, Chief Priest Nesac said, “They had no chance of earning anything. The priests control the most profitable mines. Greed and self-indulgence have been their downfall.”

“You’ve escaped them,” Nesac’s wife soothed.

“I pray so.”

Prill asked, “Where will we find water down here?”

Deuel gave a mirthless chuckle. “We might have to dig for it.”

Equally unamused, Dan said, “I haven’t explored much beyond the entrance. If we can’t find an underground stream, we’ll be forced to return to the city each night and go to the wells.”

A worrisome option. The few productive wells were guarded and dwindling rapidly. Ela bit her lip. They needed to find an underground stream. Infinite?

She moved on in the darkness. Kalme called, “Ela, slow down. We’re depending on you for most of our light.”

“Sorry.” Ela glanced back over her shoulder and promptly fell, sliding down an incline. A chorus of yells lifted in the cave above. Sprawled faceup in the dirt, Ela caught her breath and the still-glowing branch. Nothing hurt except her dignity, her elbows, and her rump. To reassure the others, she called out, “I’m safe.” Maybe.

She tried to see beyond the branch into the darkness. And failed, of course. Except . . . chilling liquid seeped into her short boots. “I’ve found water!”

Hunger gnawed into Ela’s sleep. She tried to ignore it, taking refuge in her dreams. Really, three days of strict rationing should have accustomed her to a growling stomach. And it would be unprophet-like to grumble. Hadn’t she fasted in the desert for longer than three days? Scolding herself, she reached for the branch. Gone.

Jolted wide awake, she sat up. Not only was the branch missing, but something in the cavern had changed. A shift in light and air. Shadows, large shadows, spread throughout the subterranean landscape. And large shadows meant a large light. Behind her. Had they been discovered? Infinite!

Turn and see.

Wary, she looked over her shoulder. A tree. The tree. Broad, spiraling vinewood trunk. Shimmering fruits, glorious flowers, and leaves all jewel-like in the darkness. Just as she remembered. Ela stared, dazzled and distressed. If only Tzana could be here.

Tzana.

Pain sliced through the numbness that had sheltered Ela since Tzana’s death. Tears burned and glistened, blurring in the vinewood tree’s glow. And sobs shattered her breath. Lowering her face into the dirt, Ela worshiped her Creator and cried.

Someone knelt beside Ela and held her. Mother.

Kalme cried with her. But she kissed Ela and snuggled her as if she were a child again. Ela hugged Mother tight. At long last, she sniffled and straightened. Tears, hers and Mother’s, dripped off her face.

“Better?” Kalme sounded congested from crying.

No. “A little.” She would miss Tzana for the rest of her short mortal life. Sucking in a shaky breath, Ela wiped at the tears. Father and the others were staring at her. Even Jess was watching. Though he did turn within Father’s arms to gaze at the tree.

Ela tugged off her short boots and reached for her baby brother. “May I?”

Dan handed over Jess, then stood. Clearly astounded by the tree, Father said, “Tell us about this . . . miracle.”

“I will. But, first, everyone, remove your boots and sandals.”

As he wrenched off his boots, Chief Priest Nesac recited, “‘From dirt we were created, to dirt we will return. Bless the Infinite!’”

While she waited, Ela kissed Jess and comforted herself by smoothing his curls. When everyone stood near, barefoot, she said, “The tree is the branch, transformed by the Infinite’s mercy. He has chosen this way to provide for us.” Fresh tears threatened as she said, “Tzana loved this tree!”

Reverent, Ela carried Jess over to the sacred ground. Grass sprang soft, cool, and rich green beneath her bare feet. And so sweetly scented that she felt fed just inhaling its fragrance. After unwrapping Jess from his swaddling clothes, she leaned against the tree’s broad spiraling trunk, lifted her brother’s tiny hand, and rested it on the gleaming vinewood. The baby gripped an iridescent twist of bark and stared, frowning, as if trying to decipher the purity of its inward light.

She wished he were old enough to remember this instant. To remember Tzana. And her.

Followed by Sara Nesac, Prill neared, her slim face scared, yet elated. “Are we permitted to touch the tree?”

“Yes. And we can eat the fruit.”

Deuel halted at the verdant edge of the subterranean oasis and shook his head. “I don’t deserve to approach it!”

Nesac pulled at the merchant’s sleeve. “It’s not a matter of you deserving the Infinite’s gift. What matters is His perfect love in offering it to you. Will you abandon your pride and self-absorbed ways and accept His gift? Or will you shun it and Him?”

Deuel covered his face with his hands and sat down on the cavern’s barren rocks, clearly overwhelmed. Casting a longing glance at the tree, Nesac sat with him, ready to counsel this new and profoundly distressed follower of the Infinite.

Dan and Kalme approached the tree cautiously. For a long time, they simply stood beneath the branches, admiring it. At last, Dan asked, “Tzana saw this tree?”

“Yes. While I was in the desert, after I first became a prophet, she obeyed the Infinite and guarded the branch in my absence. In return, He protected her, sheltering her and feeding her by changing the branch to a tree. While she was here, where you now stand, she was free of her illness. She was beautiful. . . .” Remembering her little sister’s joy, her vivid lovely face, Ela’s throat tightened.

Kalme rested her face against the tree, tears sliding down her cheeks. Dan said, “I wonder why the Infinite allowed her to accompany you on such a dangerous journey.”

Why, indeed? Ela sent her thoughts upward. Infinite? Why did you allow Tzana to face such dangers with me?

Because she loves you. And because she fulfilled her work for My glory.

Warring for composure, Ela repeated the Infinite’s answer to her father.

Dan sat in the lush grass and tender flowers and covered his face with his big, work-toughened hands. “It’s more than I’d ever hoped for her.” His shoulders shook with sobs.

In Akabe’s tower-top arena, Lorteus, the royal fightmaster, glowered at Kien, then spoke, his voice as harsh as metal raking over stone. “On your journey to Parne, your role as the king’s friend—his near equal—has great importance. At all times, you must be ready to defend his life as well as your own.”

And Ela’s, Kien added silently, determined to best this arrogant brute of a fightmaster. For Ela’s sake, he must be battle ready. Whatever it took. Even enduring Lorteus.

Strutting about, chin lifted and big nostrils flaring, Lorteus said, “Danger surrounds every king and those nearest him. My task is to ensure you both survive any sort of attack.” With a disdainful frown, he added, “The problem now is that you Tracelanders can be duped by your own reflections! You’re too confident in your Azurnite! But pretty blades will not defend a dismal swordsman.” Smug, he lifted two wooden longswords—wasters—from a nearby stand and slapped one at Kien. “Believe me, Tracelander, I can bring you down despite your weapon!”

Kien eyed the hair curling from the man’s ear canals. And his distorted, oft-broken nose and battle-ravaged skin. Understandable that Lorteus needed some reason to boast.

The man shifted his weapon into a plowman’s waist-level stance. “Strike when ready.”

Kien lunged, cutting his waster toward Lorteus with all his might.

The fightmaster received the strike flat on the lower portion of his blade and deflected Kien’s weapon, hammering it upward with his sword’s crossguard. Just before he sliced down to Kien’s shoulder. “You’ve lost your arm,” he taunted Kien. “Yet, even now, mortally wounded, you can kill!”

The words became a cadence, drilled into Kien’s thoughts with each defeat.

Even now. Mortally wounded. You can kill!

Sweat stinging his skin and eyes, Kien fought. For Ela. At last, he forced the fightmaster to a pause, their swords crossed at throat level.

Lorteus snarled, “Your grip is weak, girl.”

Silence, Kien warned himself. Feeble taunts don’t merit response. He glared into the fightmaster’s beast-grim eyes. When the man shoved him, Kien locked his foot behind Lorteus’s and threw him to the pavings amid the clatter of wooden blades. Instantly, as Kien aimed for the kill, Lorteus swung out a leg and toppled Kien. His blade touched Kien’s throat within a blink.

Amazing. Must be the man’s ear hair. Kien affected a threatening glare. “Again.”

Lorteus growled and stood. “Why? You won’t learn. I’d be wasting my time just teaching a Tracelander to spit properly.”

“Are you saying I ought to spit like you—with every word I speak?”

Kien rolled aside to avoid Lorteus’ retaliatory strike, then leaped to his feet.

Before Kien raised his own waster, Lorteus pressed the tip of his weapon against Kien’s heart. “Tracelander, I don’t care if you are king, ambassador, or envoy. I will make every step of your journey to Parne a living torment! Beginning at dawn, you will eat what I feed you, drink what I give you, and sleep when I allow you ten breaths to do so!” His eyes fixed on Kien, seeming wholly malignant. “You will learn. Otherwise, when Belaal kills you in battle, you will be grateful!”

This animal would control his meals? Kien regretted mentioning the spit.

Amid the evening meal, shared with her family and friends in the cavern, images called to Ela. Faces, some familiar, some new, sought her in the city above. And words, Sacred Words, beckoned her from their neglected shelter in a now-dead house. Ela hastily set down her food as emotions slid into her thoughts. Spinning . . .

Trying to contain the vision’s momentum, she rocked forward on her knees and gripped her head. Amid the escalating tempest of words, fear, and pleading faces, Ela felt Kalme’s arms encircle her. Mother’s embrace stilled her. A sanctuary.

Released from the vision, Ela straightened and pulled in a breath. Infinite . . . truly?

Yes.

Seated beside Ela, Prill asked, “What are you seeing?”

“The Infinite’s faithful ones.”

Nesac approached, his thin face furrowed in concern. Dan crouched beside Ela. “Tell us.”

Ela motioned toward Nesac. “He must return to the temple for the Books of the Infinite—they cannot be taken as spoils of war by any king. And I’m sent to find others for the Infinite.”

“Others?” Kalme’s lovely eyebrows lifted. “Who?”

“The faithful ones who must join us to survive.”

Dan grunted. “It seems the Infinite will feed them.” He looked up at the tree. After a reluctant pause, he said, “You’ll need to take the branch.”

“The branch stays here. I’ve faced danger without it before, Father. Don’t worry. The Infinite is my Protector.” Though she would be seen as vulnerable when she entered Parne without her insignia. The branch was the symbol of Parne’s prophet and her Creator’s care. Ela’s enemies, His enemies, would believe they could more easily capture her. And soon a particular enemy would succeed, Ela knew. Where, when, she couldn’t tell. But this cavern obviously wasn’t the place of darkness she’d experienced in her vision. There was no fear in this underground sanctuary. No pain. No stench of death. Unlike the place she’d envisioned.

Ela rested a hand on Prill’s arm. “I’m sorry, but you must accompany me, with Nesac.”

The matron blanched.