Desert Rising (13 page)

Sulis hesitated, the real question still unspoken.

“I will keep your secret,” Alannah told Sulis, “although I think you should tell Jonas and Lasha. You are in danger because of who you are and where you come from. Don't ever tell acolytes anything about the desert—­not anything!” She said the last part fiercely.

“Why?” Sulis asked, surprised.

“There have always been rumors of war,” Alannah told her. “Of Voras building his armies. I thought that if the deities wanted it, it was right. But I no longer trust them. Unless the One asks you through Counselor Elida, you must resist.”

Sulis nodded in agreement.

“And we must tell the others what happened to you,” Alannah continued. “Not just Jonas and Lasha; all our classmates must know and prepare their minds.”

“The deities will not like that,” Sulis cautioned. Alannah's turnabout surprised her, but the girl seemed to take the deities' foul play personally. “It could put us in danger.”

“Then we will have to do it secretly, telling one person at a time.”

“How do we begin?” Sulis asked simply.

Alannah smiled shyly at her. “I think you and Jonas and Lasha have already begun. I think we meditate, we bond with our
feli,
and we pray for guidance. And when we start understanding more, we can guide the others, bringing them in one by one.”

“We need to warn the other girls about the trap I almost fell into,” Sulis said.

Alannah nodded. “But I don't think it should come from you. Let me handle it. I'll tell them it's something the Counselor warned me about. They'll believe me.”

Alannah was the most fervent at her prayers, the most pious in her actions, the expert in scriptures—­yet her classmates respected her rather than rolling their eyes at what could be seen as excessive. Her belief was real, and her love for the One transcended ridicule, so that even older acolytes came to her for words of encouragement.

“I never expected to hear you speak this way,” Sulis admitted to Alannah. “And certainly not to me.”

The other girl nodded. “Neither did I. In many ways, we are opposites. You seem so mocking of our beliefs, of our life. I wondered if you were here as a test to my faith. But then there was today.” She paused and looked down at her empty bowl. “Nothing was what I expected, yet Counselor Elida wasn't at all surprised. I am trusting, Sulis, but I'm not stupid. I'm not going to deny what is right before me even if it goes against everything I've believed the deities to be. If the One is calling me to change my path, then I must answer that call, no matter my feelings.”

Sulis nodded slowly. Alannah had a passion that Sulis understood. Sulis's own passions were more for her family, for the desert air, for the dream of a world where ­people could worship as they chose—­the thing her mother died trying to make happen. But she didn't believe the One would step in. In her experience, it was humans who made the changes, while the One stayed above it all. Alannah, on the other hand, had faith that matched her passion. She believed that the One could make changes and that she had to act through her wishes.

Sulis looked around and realized that the dining hall was empty, and the servers were waiting for them to leave so they could clean up. She stood. “I'm late for riding lessons.”

“And I'm late for sums,” Alannah said, making a face. She stood and clasped Sulis's hand in her own. “And so it begins, our own minirevolution,” she said jokingly.

Sulis squeezed her hand. “All revolutions start small,” she responded. “Some grow into something larger than the founders ever could imagine.”

“The One willing.”

“
I
DON'T KNOW
how she escaped.” The Templar ran his hand over his face, which was more lined and aged than it had appeared the day before. “One minute I had her in my grasp and was just waiting for her to give in to the summons, and the next I was lying on the floor, unable to climb into a chair.”

Or maintain his glamour of youth, the Crone thought with a little smug pleasure. This was the second time this week he'd hunted her down. This time he'd found her in her Temple office counseling one of the acolytes. The girl had turned pale at the sight of him and scurried away, and the Crone had noted this for future reference. She liked to keep track of which of her girls the Templar had his hooks in.

The Crone steepled her fingers in front of her and glared at the Templar, slumped in her petitioner's chair. She'd told him not to act on that desert girl, but he hadn't listened. Not that his little plan wouldn't have worked nicely. Had his will overpowered Sulis's, she would have been safely in Ivanha's grasp by the year's end. But the man hadn't tested her power before laying the
geas
; instead, he'd blundered ahead, led by the little brain that swung between his legs.

“Now the girl will be wary,” the Crone commented out loud. It didn't bother her that Sulis wouldn't trust the Templar. He wasn't important in this. If Sulis linked Ivanha to the Templar's
geas
, however . . . “When did this happen? Did she break the
geas
—­or was there another involved?” The Templar's bungling might have ruined her plans.

“Early morning, before the pledges had their first meal.”

The Crone nodded. “During their mind classes with the Counselor.”

“Yes. I felt a tug first, then a few minutes later I felt an actual shove. I thought I was drawing her to me, but then there was a sudden surge of power. I woke a few moments later with a One-­awful headache and the link gone.”

He was whining, a tone that she hated in men. “But did she have help? That is the question! Or are her powers just manifesting more quickly than in the others?” the Crone thought out loud irritably.

“I felt no interference. If the Counselor had invoked the One's power, I would have known. She repelled me with a powerful memory,” the Templar said ruefully. “Counselor Elida seemed to suspect nothing when I asked her how the pledges were coming along; said she thought there'd been some breakthroughs today.”

The Crone ground her teeth, glad that her
feli
had taken his wretched hide off somewhere unknown so she wouldn't be tempted to blast the Templar off the earth. If only she could channel the powers of Ivanha without the creature; then she could take care of this idiot without anyone's being the wiser. Of course, that would be an especially bad idea just before a Curia. She smiled sourly; there was only one leader, or Voice, as they were formally called, for the temple of each deity. Eliminating one of those four before their quarterly meeting would be rather noticeable. “You spoke to the Counselor? Looking like this?” She gestured to his aged face. “And you thought she wouldn't suspect anything?”

“She didn't; I'd be able to tell. How could she, after all?” His tone was arrogant, as though he held the key to all women. “Her
feli
wasn't even present.”

“The One can speak to the Counselor through any
feli
,” the Crone reminded him. It was the reason she didn't trust her own. Who knew what the creature reported to the Counselor when the Crone wasn't around?

The Templar looked uncomfortable at that reminder. The bell for vespers rang, and he looked out the window with a sigh. “We need to get to Parasu for the Curia,” he said.

She picked up a packet of papers her Mother Superior had prepared for her earlier in the day and preceded him out of her office. Could she go to the Counselor pleading ignorance of his actions, making it seem as though she'd discovered this plot and was trying to protect the girl? She sighed. No, it wouldn't work. She had too many maidens in her Temple who'd come to her by means of the Templar. It didn't matter that this one time she really was innocent.

The Tribune of Parasu and Herald of Aryn broke off their conversation when she and the Templar entered a spacious private workroom off Parasu's main altar. They had chosen to convene the Curia here, where there was more space and a round table set up for consultations between judges and petitioners.

“Glad you could make it,” the Herald said dryly, her face twisted in a sardonic smile. She was an older woman, like the Crone, but exposure to the elements through her life as a courier and messenger had left deep wrinkles in her skin that powder could not cover, even had the woman bothered with any facial adornment. She was a restless woman, seeming bored by their quarterly Curias, as though she'd rather be on horseback than sitting comfortably in a chair. The Crone despised Aryn's mouthpiece.

“We were afraid you'd forgotten the appointment,” the Tribune added, voice formal. The Tribune was a colorless man. The Crone wasn't certain how old he was or if he had once been handsome or personable before he became the Voice of the least accessible deity. But now his age was impossible to tell. He had grayish skin that never seemed to tan. His eyes were gray behind the thick spectacles that dangled on his thin, bony nose. His hair was sparse and gray. Unlike the other heads of their order, the Tribune wore robes of a subdued color, so he was cloaked in a bluish gray. His voice had the thin, dull monotone of someone reading a law brief. There was something inhuman about the Tribune, much like his god, Parasu, who was represented by only a drop of water.

The Crone settled herself regally in a padded chair, smoothing her gown in a way she knew would irritate the Herald, who sneered at her obvious femininity. “We were enjoying a lovely dinner and lost track of time,” she said serenely, the perfect model of a proper matron.

The Templar seated himself beside her, looking slightly rumpled by the day's events.

“We will start with a report on the new pledges to the Temple,” the Tribune intoned once they were settled. He glanced over at the Crone, who supervised the new pledges this year. She thought she saw eagerness in the three Voices of the deities she faced, so she kept her tone as neutral as possible.

“We gained three new pledges mid-­spring, bringing our total up to nine. Voras is housing the male pledges this year, and twins from a prestigious family of the west coast, Sandy and Shane, were taken since our last meeting. Dues have been sent out accordingly for the family's loss. Ivanha is housing the female pledges this season; and Sulis, of a merchant family who is, as you probably have heard, from a desert city was our last pledge of the season. All three seem to have settled in well and are attending classes with their pledge mates. Sulis is behind in domestic skills and must learn her place in her new society.”

“Perhaps for Ivanha. Aryn values more than a pretty face.” The Herald bared her teeth in a grin. “You did know she is a twin, did you not?”

The Crone heard the Templar suck in a breath beside her, and she attempted to keep the surprise off her face. She must not have succeeded because the Herald chuckled at her discomfort.

“Oh, yes. She has a twin brother though he has chosen his family's business over the Temple and does not have the affinity with the
feli
that she does. Aryn will tolerate no meddling on this one, Crone.” Her voice turned hard.

The Crone raised her eyebrows. “Why my dear, the pledges come to our deities at the blessing of the One. I am insulted by your insinuation.”

The Herald snorted derisively. “Which is why your temple is packed with pregnant women who excel at horsecraft and languages, and why Sulis was summoned to the Templar's office and ran out only moments later. And why Reggie here is finally looking his age.” She grinned, insulting the Templar by using the name he had born before he became Voras's Voice.

He narrowed his eyes. “I needed her report. She was attacked by one of the Forsaken and was distressed over the incident.”

“Oh please,” said the Herald. “You forget—­the
feli
can sense a
geas
, and they have taken extraordinary interest in this girl. She broke it somehow, and I'd love to hear that story. I'm warning you: we've allowed you leeway the past few years, but Aryn is no longer amused.”

The Tribune nodded in agreement. “Parasu has also taken notice of your interference with the pledges. You will cease such actions that take away fair choice of the pledges, or you will suffer the consequences. This will be your only warning. We have spoken.”

The Crone looked over at the Templar, who was smiling arrogantly. “And what can you do about it? You have no power over Voras.”

The Tribune's colorless eyes gazed back expressionlessly. “The One has dominion over all. For this, we would give up judgment and apply to the One.”

The Crone gasped. It was a dire possibility, one that had never before been carried out. The Voice of any deity could directly channel the One if the deity submitted fully to the One's will. But the deity's Voice would be unable to ever channel energy again, and the petitioning deity would lose power. By combining powers with the petitioning deity, the One could reabsorb the errant deity.

The Herald nodded. “Aryn will join Parasu in this.”

The Crone bowed her head. Ivanha and Voras together could not stand up to the other deities if they were backed by the One. The Templar had brought too much attention with his schemes. Ivanha would make him pay for this humiliation of her Voice.

“But what am I to do when the maidens approach me?” the Templar said, sounding trapped. “The attraction they feel for me is not my fault!”

The Tribune looked impassive, but the Crone heard contempt in his voice. “If you have the power to attract, you have the power to repel,” he said firmly.

“In other words, keep your trousers buttoned, man! If you can't resist every urge that comes your way, then you should never have been promoted from nursery school.” The Herald put the sentiment more baldly. “And that goes for all pledges, not just Sulis. We have one of the most promising pledge classes in my memory. The choosing needs to be balanced.”