Prophecy, Child of Earth (41 page)

It took eleven days of furious travel to reach the outskirts of the city of Sepulvarta. The star-topped spire had been in view for three days before that.

Rhapsody had first seen it at night, glowing dimly in the distance. It looked exactly as it had in her vision, and the sight of it caused her dreams that night to be especially intense. The nightmare that had made her undertake this journey had returned to her almost every night, a nagging reminder of her need to press on with all possible speed.

The road to the city was teeming with people, pilgrims on their way to the holy shrines, clergy traveling to and from assignments, as well as the typical humanity that wandered the thoroughfares from province to province, looking for commerce or other interaction, some honorable, some nefarious. It was fairly easy to blend in with the crowd and wend her way past the gates of the city proper, winding up eventually at the rectory of Lianta'ar, the Great Basilica of Sepulvarta, high on the hill at the outskirts of the city. It was a beautiful marble building attached to the basilica itself, its engraved brass doors guarded by soldiers in bright uniforms.

Rhapsody tied her horse to the hitching area, tended to the mare's needs with water and oats, and approached the guards directly.

She had not gotten within ten feet of them when their spears crossed, one in front of the other.

'What do you want?"

Rhapsody stood up as straight as she could. "I need to see His Grace."

'Days of Pleas are in the winter; you're too late."

She felt the fear she had carried since the first nightmare had come dissolve into irritation. "I have to see him anyway. Please."

'No one sees the Patriarch, even on Days of Pleas. Go away."

Impatience was threatening to take over. Rhapsody kept her voice as calm as she could. "Please tell His Grace that the Iliachenva'ar has come to stand as his champion. Please." The guards said nothing. "All right," she said, attempting to control her rage, "until you take my message to the Patriarch you will be unable to deliver any other." She spoke the name of silence.

The guards looked at each other, then began to laugh. Pity crossed Rhapsody's face as they found themselves utterly without sound, and their faces contorted in confusion and fear. The younger of the two men clutched at his unresponsive throat, while the more experienced guard leveled his spear at her.

'Now, now, don't get testy," she said, looking unimpressed. "If you really want to set to it here in the street, I'd be glad to oblige, but I'm afraid my weapon is far better than yours; it really would be unfair. Now, please, gentlemen, I've been traveling for a long time and I really have no more patience left. Either take my message to the Patriarch, or get ready to defend yourselves." She gave them her warmest smile to take the threat out of her words.

The younger of the two guards blinked, and his face went slack. He looked at the other guard, then back at Rhapsody, before turning and entering the rectory.

The other guard kept his spear leveled at her. She, in turn, sat down on the stone steps of the manse to wait.

The view of the city from the steps of the rectory was majestic, sweeping from one edge of the hill to the other. Many of the buildings of Sepulvarta were constructed of white stone or marble, and the resulting effect was a city that glinted in sunlight, appearing somehow otherworldly, like a disappointing vision of the afterlife. Some of the ethereal light was doubtless imparted by the enormous pinnacle in the center of the city. The Spire was so tall that it looked down on the top of the basilica, despite the church being set on the hilltop hundreds of feet above the city itself. When the sun caught a facet of the star a broad slash of light flashed through the air, making the rooftops gleam in momentary glory.

The guard returned just as Rhapsody had decided to stand and stretch her legs.

'Please come with me."

She followed him up the stone steps and through the heavy brass doors.

C,'he bright sun of the city disappeared the moment Rhapsody entered the rectory. There were few windows, and the marble walls blotted out the light completely, leaving a dark and dismal feel to the interior of the beautiful building.

Heavy tapestries hung on the walls and ornate brass candlesticks held large wax cylinders that provided the only light. The pungent scent of incense did little to mask the sharp odor of mildew and stale air.

She was led down several long hallways, past sallow-faced men in clerical black who stared at her as she walked by. Finally the guard stopped before a large carved door of black walnut and opened it slowly for her. He gestured with his hand, and Rhapsody went into the room.

It was approximately the same size as the meeting room behind the Great Hall in the Cauldron, with a large gilt star embossed on the floor. Other than that it was without ornament, and unfurnished except for a heavy black walnut chair sitting atop a rise of marble stairs, similar to a throne but without the grandeur customarily associated with one. In the chair sat a tall, thin man in richly embroidered robes of golden silk patterned with a silver star. He regarded her sternly as she stopped before him; he was no one she had ever seen before, not even in her dreams. She waited for him to speak.

He continued to watch her for a long moment, then his brow darkened. "Well?

What did you want to see me about?"

Rhapsody let her breath out slowly. "Nothing."

The stern face molded into an expression of anger. "Nothing? Then why were you so insistent? Don't toy with me, young woman."

'I believe you are the one who is toying with me," answered Rhapsody as politely as she could, though a hint of her anger did creep into her tone. "I need to see the real Patriarch. Misrepresentation of this nature hardly becomes him, or you."

The anger vanished from his face in the flood of bewilderment that followed her statement. "Who are you?"

'As I told the guards, I'm the Iliachenva'ar. It's all right if you don't understand what that means; I'm not here to see you. But the Patriarch does understand, or will, if you haven't seen fit to tell him I'm here yet. Now, with all due respect, sir, please take me to see him. There isn't much time."

The man stared at her for a moment, then rose. "His Grace is in preparation for the High Holy Day celebration. No one can see him."

'Why don't you let him make that decision?" Rhapsody asked, folding her arms.

"Really, I think you will find he wants to see me."

He considered her words. "I will ask him."

'Thank you. I am grateful."

The man nodded and came down the stairs. He paused as he came past her, looking her up and down, and then left the room. Rhapsody sighed and glanced up at the ceiling. It was constructed of marble as well; the unrelenting solidity made her feel entombed. She itched to get back outside into the air again.

After what seemed like an eternity the door opened once more, and the man she had spoken with returned, attired in simple clerical black this time. He gestured for her to follow him, and she did, down more endless corridors until she was so deep within the building that she had totally lost her bearings.

Finally they entered a long hall of simple cells, many with open doors, that looked like a hospice. As they walked past she could see that each room contained a single bed, or occasionally two, with reclining figures beneath white linen sheets, sometimes moaning in pain or muttering in dementia. The man stopped before a closed door near the end of the hallway, knocked, and opened it. He gestured for her to enter.

Rhapsody came into the room, vaguely aware of the door closing behind her. In the bed rested an elderly man, frail of body, with a fringe of snow-white hair and bright blue eyes that twinkled merrily in the prison of his fragile physical form. He was dressed in the same white linen bedsmock as the other patients she had seen on the hall, and Rhapsody recognized him instantly as the cleric in her dreams. A look of awe came over his face as she came to him, and he held a shaking hand out to her.

'Oelendra?" His voice was a thin croak. "You have come?"

Rhapsody took his hand gently and sat down on the stool beside the bed so he would not have to crane his neck to see her. "No, Your Grace," she said softly.

"My name is Rhapsody. I am the Iliachenva'ar now. Oelendra trained me. In fact, I just came from training with her."

The elderly priest nodded. "Of course, you are far too young to be her. I should have realized it when you came in. But when they told me a Liringlas woman who said she was the Iliachenva'ar had come—"

'I'm honored by the error, Your Grace," Rhapsody said, smiling. "I hope to be worthy of the comparison one day."

The Patriarch's face broke into a wide smile. "My, you are lovely, child." His voice dropped to an impish whisper. "Do you think it would be a sin for me just to lie here and look at you for a moment?"

Rhapsody laughed. "Well, you would know better than I, Your Grace, but I doubt it."

He sighed. "The All-God is kind, sending me such consolation in my last days."

Rhapsody's brow furrowed. "Your last days? Have you had a vision, Your Grace?"

The Patriarch nodded slightly. "Yes, child. This celebration of the High Holy Day will be my last; within the year I will go to be with the All-God." He saw the consternation in her eyes. "Don't pity me, child, I'm not afraid; in fact, I am eager to go, when the time comes. What matters now is to complete the High Holy Day ceremony tomorrow night. Once that is done the year is assured."

'I don't understand. What does that mean?"

'You are not of the faith, then?"

'No, Your Grace, I'm not. I'm sorry."

The blue eyes twinkled. "Don't apologize, child; the All-God calls each person to his or her own discernment. If you believe differently, perhaps you are here to teach me something as I prepare to go to meet Him."

Rhapsody looked uncomfortable. "I hardly think I could teach you anything about matters of faith, Your Grace."

'Don't be so certain, child. Faith is a curious thing, and it is not always greatest in those who are the most schooled in it. But we will return to this thought, yes?

Let me tell you about the High Holy Day.

'Each year, on the eve of the first day of the season consecrated to the sun, I perform a sacred ritual, alone in the basilica. Throughout the year other celebrations take place, but none of them are as important, because the High Holy Day ceremony recommits the faithful to the All-God, and the Patriarch to His service. The sacred words are part of a holy bond with the Creator, the fulfillment of a promise that each year the Patriarch, on behalf of all the faithful, dedicates the collective soul of the people to the All-God. In return, we are granted His divine safekeeping for another year." Rhapsody nodded in understanding; the ritual he described was a form of Naming.

'Thus, since an entire year of the All-God's protection is assured by this holy ritual; there is nothing that can be allowed to delay or interrupt it," the frail old man continued. "The populace of Sepulvarta retires for the night early and remains indoors to ensure there are no distractions to me. In fact, they are encouraged to pray for me at this time, so that I may be diligent in my duties, though I'm sure most of them are sleeping, rather than sitting vigil." The old man stopped and took several rasping breaths from the exertion of his discourse.

Rhapsody poured a cup of water from the pitcher on the bedside table and handed it to him. "Are you in pain, Your Grace?" She steadied the trembling glass for him.

The Patriarch drank deeply, then nodded to indicate he was finished. Rhapsody set the glass back down. "Only a little, child. Growing old is a painful process, but the pain helps us to focus on leaving our bodies behind and strengthening our spirits for the journey. There are so many others here who suffer so much more. I wish my strength were not failing me so. I would tend to them as I usually do, but if I do, I fear I will not be able to complete my service tomorrow night."

'I will tend to them for you, Your Grace," Rhapsody said, patting his hand.

'You're a healer, then?"

'A little," she answered, rising and removing her cloak and pack. She draped her cloak over back of a chair on the other side of the room, and began to rummage through the satchel. "I also sing a bit. Would you like to hear a song?"

The pale face lit up. "Nothing would please me more. I should have known you were a musician with a name like that."

'I'm afraid the only instrument I have with me is my lark's flute," said Rhapsody regretfully. "My lute met with an unfortunate accident recently, and I left my traveling harp in the House of Remembrance to guard the tree there."

'Harp? You play the harp? Oh, how I would dearly love to hear that. There is no more beautiful sound in all the world than a harp played well."

'I didn't say I played well," Rhapsody said, smiling. "But I do play enthusiastically. Perhaps someday I'll return and bring my new harp, if you'd like."

'We'll see," said the Patriarch noncommittally. Rhapsody knew that his eyes were already looking into the next world. She put the tiny flute to her lips and began to play an ethereal melody, light and breezy, the song of the wind in the trees of Tyrian.

The Patriarch's face relaxed, and the muscles of his forehead went slack as the pain he carried eased with the sound of the instrument. Working with the Bolg as she had, Rhapsody had become accustomed to watching the face for signs of relief, and could tell when the music had alleviated suffering to a degree that would last for a while. When she saw that stage occur in the Patriarch, she brought the song to an end.

The old man sighed deeply. "Truly the All-God sent you to ease my passage, child. If only I could keep you here with me for the rest of my days."

'There is a song of passage the Lirin sing when a soul prepares to travel to the light," Rhapsody said. She saw the Patriarch's eyes spark with interest. "It is said to loose the bonds of the Earth that keep the soul in the body so that it doesn't have to struggle through them. That way the soul feels nothing but joy in its journey."