37 

Standing at a distance from Parne with the other survivors, clutching both the branch and Jess, Ela watched vast gaps open in the wall. Parne was being shattered by its own ores, reducing the traitorous Atean shrines to dust.

Pain tightened around Ela’s throat like a noose and tears spilled down her cheeks, but she forced herself to watch. To face her sentence.

She, Parne’s prophet, stood as guilty as the Atea-lovers for failing to recognize her city-state’s fatal corruption. Verses from the Book of Praises slid into her thoughts.

Declare them guilty, Infinite, for their intrigues have ruined them. . . .

The temple, now cleared of its treasures—she would not think the word looted—fell amid billowing towers of smoke. Explosions shattered its white columns, then brought down the temple’s gilded dome. Parne’s crown.

By Your love, my Creator, I may approach Your house. . . .

Never again. “Oh, Infinite!” She couldn’t prevent the tears. “What will happen to Your people who love You?”

Kalme hugged Ela now, crying quietly. Behind her, Prill sobbed aloud.

As Ela watched the clouds of smoke and the walls of flames consuming homes, His voice whispered in her thoughts.

I consider the exiles sent from this place as righteous. For their good, I watch over My people. Tell them to build homes in their new land and be content. I remember and love them still.

She willed herself to rest in His words. And in the temple she now saw in her thoughts, yet unbuilt, above the white-arcaded homes of Siphra.

Bowing her head over Jess’s soft black curls, Ela prayed.

And the branch gleamed in her hand, offering its silent promise of reconciliation.

General Rol stood as Kien entered his residential meeting chamber. “You received the summons.”

“Yes.” Kien opened his money pouch and removed the small parcel Bryce had given him outside Parne. “I haven’t unsealed it, but that hardly matters. I’d hoped to leave Parne before it arrived.”

Rol glared at the formal blue-wax-sealed parchment. “Recessed or not, they’ve wasted no time in sending it.” Concerned, he asked, “What are your plans, my boy?”

“To defend myself before the Grand Assembly, then deal with the aftermath.”

The general turned and looked out the nearest window. “Yesterday, I received a missive from Thel’s subordinate-commander, Selwin.”

“I’m sure you did, sir.”

“You will tell me every detail,” Rol ordered. “However slight, I want to hear it. But first, we’ll take a walk.”

“A walk, sir?”

Rol turned from the window, suddenly testy. “Yes, Lantec. A walk. Fetch your destroyer to my front courtyard.”

Why? Kien restrained himself and went outside. He unleashed Scythe from the chaining block in front of the general’s residence and led him through the gate, into the main courtyard. “Best manners,” Kien reminded the monster. “No biting, no licking, no eating. Do you hear me?”

Scythe grunted.

Rol waited in the courtyard, clad in muddy boots and an old cloak. “Out to the pasture.” He marched alongside Kien as if on a mission. What was wrong?

“How is Ela?” the general demanded. “Tell me she survived.”

“She survived, sir. I believe she’s now traveling to Siphra with the other Parnian refugees.”

“Good.” Rol sounded grimly pleased. “I’ll send word to her chaperone. Tamri Het will be glad to return to Siphra and resume her duties, I’m sure.”

“Yes, sir. But Ela is already surrounded by chaperones.” Her parents and Prill were enough.

“Hmph! Chaperones aren’t fail-safe, and I have proof.” The general halted at a stone-arched reinforced gate leading into his private pasture. He motioned Kien and Scythe inside, closed the gate behind himself, then released a sharp, impressive whistle. “Flame, come here!”

The general’s destroyer was already approaching from the opposite side of the pasture. Dark and elegant as a destroyer could be, she nickered a low greeting.

Scythe answered her—a summoning call.

General Rol scowled at Kien. “Well? Notice anything different about my destroyer?”

Unnerved, Kien studied Flame. Well. “She’s, um . . . larger.” Bulging at the middle, actually. Kien eyed Scythe. “Is there something you’d care to confess?”

Scythe moseyed off to greet Flame with a nudge. She responded with a nip to his neck, then stood with him. Together, they appeared for all the world like a settled married couple.

The general cried, “I knew it!”

Kien coughed, trying to disguise a laugh.

Rol seemed almost sincerely disgruntled. Almost.

Father stormed through Kien’s tower room, shaking his head. “I blame myself. My enemies are trying to attack me by destroying your career!”

“You weren’t in Siphra or Parne, sir,” Kien argued, wishing Father would sit with him at the writing table and calm down. “You’ve no need to condemn yourself for my actions.”

“And you’ve not been in East Guard!” Rade Lantec snapped. “Now, I’ve already submitted a formal request to delay your trial. You’ll meet with my advisors next week, and . . .”

No! He didn’t want a delay. Kien abandoned his writing table, hoping to conceal his frustration. Father meant well. But the more Rade talked, the more Kien realized he would be battling political maneuverings as much as legal charges. Not good.

Infinite, give me patience!

By the time Father left Kien alone in the tower, Kien was too unsettled to continue preparations for the trial. He dropped into the chair before his writing table, deciding to finish his letter to Ela instead. He would send it to Jon to give to Ela. He’d already detailed Siphra’s former ambassador Ruestock’s meddling in the Siphran royal court. And Maseth’s assassination attempt and death. Then Akabe’s disastrous gift of gratitude—Aeyrievale. And Selwin’s official disapproval.

Onward. Kien picked up his reed pen, tapped it within the ink jar, and continued.

To present my case before the Grand Assembly, I’ve gathered evidence against myself. Matters do not look promising.

Too dramatic? No, it was the truth. And if the truth inspired Ela’s sympathy for him, why not?

If I am condemned and censured— Never mind, the thought is too worrisome to consider. Therefore, I’ll ignore it until later. Another more critical cause concerns me. Before you left East Guard last spring, you observed that I would never give up pursuing you.

Who am I to argue with the Infinite’s prophet? Particularly the most adorable prophet ever to live? You are correct.

Again, the truth—and surely no surprise to Ela. Why argue? He must challenge her instead.

For as long as we both draw breath—and if I am allowed to walk free, or walk at all, after my trial—I will persist until you change your mind. Unless, of course, the Infinite wills otherwise.

My love, don’t fear a future you cannot see. Instead, we ought to meet life together! By the way, I still ascribe to my theory that you cannot see my future because it is too intimately entwined with your own.

Let her blush as she had the last time he’d suggested this thought. Kien grinned and continued.

In closing, remember: The first trait I admired when meeting you—apart from your lovely face and form—was your courage. And your courage never fails you in anything but this, dear Prophet. Therefore, reconsider. And pray!

I dare you.

Please write to me! I’ll need your wisdom in the months to come.

She’d be unable to resist that plea, he was sure.

Kien signed his name without a flourish, sealed the note, then looked around his boyhood room. Still restless. Disturbed, actually.

Infinite? What if I lose? What if I’m condemned?

He could almost feel amusement in the Infinite’s response.

Who are you?

Basic question, but loaded with snares. Kien stood and paced until the most basic answer struck him. Could it be so simple? “I am Your servant.”

Who am I?

“My Creator.”

What will change if you are condemned by mortals?

“My mortal circumstances.” But not his eternal one—the undeserved favor he’d found with his Creator. And, if the Infinite was speaking to him now . . . “Won’t You tell me Your will regarding my possible marriage with Ela?”

Silence. But comforting neutral silence. Giving Kien reason to hope.

Kien sat at the table again, staring at the heap of legal documents. “I wish You were my Judge in this coming trial. You know my heart.” You love me.

He couldn’t speak those last three words aloud. Too overwhelming. Particularly remembering all his failures.

Humbled by the Infinite’s mercy, His love, Kien said, “So whatever happens, I will continue, despite my faults, as Your obedient servant. In everything.”

He removed fresh parchment from his writing box and checked his ink.

Reliving every word, Kien wrote,

In the third month before the fall of Parne, the Infinite spoke to His servant and said, “You will go to ToronSea. . . .”