Rage of the Dragon (17 page)

“What do you suggest I do to counter this?” Thanos asked, preoccupied with his search.

“If you could perform a miracle, in full view of the Council—”

“And do what?” Thanos asked. “Summon squid? Lift a house?”

Atemis frowned. “You need to take this seriously.”

“Very well.” Thanos sighed. “What do you suggest?”

“The priests are wondering why you have not yet prayed to Aelon to unseal the door to the treasure vault,” said the High Priest.

Thanos was tired. His head hurt. His throat was sore. He lost patience.

“Given the fact that gangs have threatened to attack us, hasn’t it occurred to those fools that Aelon might be smart to keep the damn door shut?”

Atemis gave Thanos a shrewd look. “Aelon should not wait too long.”

Thanos muttered something and went back to his search. He drew out the last scroll, glanced over it, saw that it was nothing but a ritual prayer to Aelon asking his blessing on the newly anointed Priest-General. Thanos was about to toss it aside when something odd in the prayer caught his attention. He started from the beginning, read it more closely.

“Simple, yet elegant. Aelon, if I believed in you, I’d get down on my knees in thanks,” Thanos remarked.

*   *   *

Treia was afraid she was losing Raegar. She tried talking to him about Thanos, but he said curtly he was too tired to discuss the matter with her. She wanted to share his bed, but he said that would be unseemly. She brought up their wedding, asking him to set a date. He said he had too much to think about.

He told her go to her own rest in the small cell where she lived with the other priestesses of Aelon. When she left, he would not even kiss her. Raegar had changed. He
did
shine with a god’s light. He was confident, strong, and she needed a way to strengthen her hold on him.

She went to her cell, but not to sleep. She dressed in the plain robes of a novice priestess of Aelon, drew her cowl over her head so that she would not be noticed, and went back to the Shrine where priests and priestesses had gathered to talk about the choice for the new Priest-General. Treia glided silently from group to group, listening to what was being said.

For the first time, Treia heard about the sealed bronze door and the death of Kleitos. Many were wondering openly why Thanos had not asked Aelon to open it. Treia listened, intrigued. An idea formed in her mind. She left word with the porter at the monastery where the unmarried Warrior-Priests had their quarters that she needed to speak with Raegar. He would find her in the garden near the Fane of the Spirit Priests.

Surrounded by fir trees, the garden was secluded and quiet. No one was around. The Fane of the Spirit Priests had been abandoned, the priestesses fleeing first the threat of ogres and then the threat of mobs. Treia sat on a wall of lichen-covered gray stone. The air was hot and humid. In her own land, summer would be ending. The days would be warm, but there would be a touch of coming winter in the chill air of night.

Treia had always hated winter. Raegar had assured her winter never came to Sinaria, never brought frostbite, starvation, howling bitter winds, killing snow.

Treia had no desire to ever go back to Vindraholm. She liked Sinaria, its heat, its abundance, its wealth. She didn’t much like the people of Sinaria, but then Treia didn’t much like anyone.

Treia’s opinion of the gods was peculiarly her own. Raegar believed in Aelon with all his heart and soul. He viewed Aelon with awe and reverence, knowing him to be an immortal being who came to this world to bring the light of his glory to those walking in darkness. If Aelon’s bright light blinded some and scorched others, that was due to their imperfections, not the god’s.

Treia viewed all gods as immortal hucksters peddling their wares to gullible humanity. She drove a hard bargain for her faith. She was not about to give any god something for nothing. Sometimes, as she had with Hevis, Treia made a bad deal and learned not to make that mistake again. She liked the god Aelon, seeing him as a god with a practical turn of mind, ambitious, clever, cunning. She could work with a god like that.

Time passed. The sun was sinking and Raegar had not come. Treia wondered with a pang if he was going to ignore her summons … and she was filled with relief and gratitude when she saw him striding up the path. Raegar was wearing the robes of a Warrior-Priest. He was much refreshed and thinking more clearly following a good meal and a long sleep. He greeted Treia with a kiss, then, looking about and seeing they were alone, started to draw her into the bushes.

Treia stopped him. “We need to talk, my love. How is the successor to the Priest-General chosen?”

“If Xydis had lived, he would have named his successor on his deathbed. If the Priest-General dies before he can name his successor, the matter goes to the Council of Priests.”

“There is talk that Xydis left a letter stating that he chose Thanos. It was found among his things in his office.”

Raegar grunted. “Not surprising.”

“Does Aelon have a say in the selection of the Priest-General?” Treia asked.

“Of course.” Raegar looked shocked that she could even ask the question. “The Council prays to the god to guide the decision.”

Treia clasped hold of Raegar’s hand. “Then it is clear, my love. The god has already chosen. Aelon wants you to be Priest-General.”

“Thanos would disagree,” said Raegar dryly.

“I spent the afternoon in the Shrine, listening to the talk,” said Treia. “The priests are impressed. You took charge in a time of crisis. You set out to sea to drive away the foe. You called down the wrath of Aelon upon your enemies. You came back a hero and yet you were not too proud to help those in need.”

Raegar was pleased. “They are saying that of me?”

“That and much more,” Treia assured him.

“And what do they say of Thanos?”

Treia shrugged. “That he is the son of Xydis.”

Raegar laughed and kissed her on the neck.

“Time for love-making later,” Treia said, wriggling away from him. “I found out something else, something of importance. You need to listen and decide what to do.

“The great door to the treasure vault remains sealed. The priests have prayed to Aelon to grant them the power to open it, but the door remains shut. One man died, they say, trying to force it open. Aelon struck him down.”

“Only the Priest-General is given the power to unseal the door,” said Raegar. “He prays to Aelon, who opens the door with his hand.”

“That’s just it, my love,” Treia said softly. “If Aelon wanted Thanos to be Priest-General, Thanos would be counting jewels in the treasure vault now, instead of reading letters in his father’s office. They say that High Priest Atemis himself has asked Thanos to pray to Aelon to open the door and Thanos refuses.”

“With good reason,” said Raegar sternly. “He is not Priest-General.”

“You are too trusting,” said Treia with a fond smile. “The door is trapped. Thanos is searching through his father’s papers for the secret to the mechanism that will safely open it. Once Thanos has found it, then he will pray.”

Raegar was displeased. “A mechanism! You speak sacrilege. The door opens at Aelon’s command.”

“
I
know that, my love,” Treia said soothingly. “You and I have faith in the god. But others are skeptical. Rumor has it that this Kleitos died trying to open the door. From what I hear, he was not praying when he made the attempt.”

“You think
I
should pray to Aelon to open the vault door. But I am not Priest-General. Aelon struck down Kleitos because the god was angered by his disobedience.”

Treia sighed inwardly. Raegar was such a child sometimes. He would not disobey the god’s command. She was certain there was some sort of mechanism. She did not believe the god truly raised and lowered the door. Whatever the truth, the question remained: how was the door to be opened if no one knew the secret? After all, the wyrds of gods and men are intertwined and it was men who built that door.

“When a new Priest-General is named, does he undergo some sort of ritual?” Treia asked.

“In the Mount of the Revelation is the holy cavern where the god appeared to the Sacred One who first brought the light of Aelon into our midst. The new Priest-General must undertake a journey to this cavern and offer himself to the god.”

“That has to be the answer,” Treia murmured. “That is where the god reveals the secret. Only the Priest-General is allowed inside the cavern?”

“The candidate must pass tests set by the god to prove himself worthy. He must enter alone. No one else is permitted to accompany him.”

Treia twined her fingers around his and said softly, “Thanos will come to the Council armed with his father’s blessing. You must come armed with Aelon’s. You must be the one to take that journey.”

“How do I prove to the Council that I have the blessing of the god?”

“With the help of your wife,” said Treia coyly. “And my bride gift—the spiritbone of the Dragon Fala.”

When she had finished explaining her plan, Raegar said, “I want to be Priest-General, but I don’t want to gain the office by trickery—”

“You know as well as I do, my love, that Thanos is using tricks of his own,” Treia said, annoyed.

“His wrong does not make me right,” said Raegar sententiously. He drew his hand away and rose to his feet. “Besides, the Dragon Fala is angry. She will not come.”

“She will come if Aelon commands her to come,” said Treia.

Raegar paused to look down at her.

“What do you mean?”

Treia pursued her advantage. “The Dragon Fala pledged her assistance to Aelon because she believes in the god and wants to serve him. Right?”

“That is true,” said Raegar.

“If Fala comes when she is summoned, she will do so because Aelon commands her. Because Aelon wants you to be Priest-General. This is not a trick. This will be your test to see if the god has faith in you.”

Raegar mulled this over. Treia did not give him much time to think.

“We must act immediately, my love,” she urged. “Thanos is even now working to build up support among the Council.”

“And what if the Dragon Fala does not appear?” Raegar asked. “I will look a fool in front of the people and the Council.”

Treia rested her hands on his chest and looked into his eyes. “You say you have faith in Aelon, my love. Either you do … or you don’t.”

Raegar and Treia were married that night in a simple private ceremony conducted by Atemis, the High Priest of the Council. Raegar was resplendent in his armor. The bride was dressed in the modest robes of a novice. Her only adornment was a necklace made of silver and amethyst and bone.

“A bride gift from my husband,” said Treia. She added demurely, “And from Aelon.”

CHAPTER

16

Treia lay in her bridal bed, waiting tensely until she was certain Raegar was either asleep or passed out—he had celebrated by consuming a great deal of wine. They had consummated the marriage, and while she waited she passed the time hoping that they had conceived a child. She needed yet another link in the chain she had wound around Raegar. A son would be the strongest yet.

She wanted a baby. A son to nurture, to raise. A son who would love her and only her.

Treia poked Raegar. He gave a drunken grumble, but did not move. He was always a heavy sleeper, even without the wine to dull his senses. Treia slid from the bed, padded softly across the room. Wrapping herself in a robe against the night’s chill, she sat down at the small table in one of the two chairs in their small dwelling.

Now that she and Raegar were married, they had been permitted to move into quarters for married couples: two bare, cold, cell-like rooms.

“Never mind,” said Treia, lighting a candle. “We won’t be here long. We will be moving into the grand palace belonging to the Priest-General.”

Her wedding gift, the necklace holding the spiritbone of the Dragon Fala, rested on the table. The setting was crude and unlovely, for it had been done in haste. After receiving the spiritbone, Raegar had taken the bone to one of the local jewelry makers with orders that it be made into a pendant. He could not afford gold or silver and so the jeweler had used bronze. A misshapen dragon with a lumpy tail held the spiritbone in four claws. High Priest Atemis had frowned at it during the ceremony and was overheard to make a remark about “savages and their strange customs.”

Treia snuggled into the warm robe and picked up the spiritbone and lovingly caressed it. Ugly though it might be, the spiritbone was hers. The Dragon Fala was hers.

Treia had never liked the Dragon Kahg because she knew the dragon did not like her. Treia had not wanted to be a dragon priestess. She’d been essentially sold into the Kai priesthood by her mother in return for the gods healing her father. The gods had not held up their end of the bargain. Her father had died and Treia had lived the life of a slave.

What was once a curse was now a blessing. Holding the spiritbone of the Dragon Fala in her hand, Treia smiled derisively. She would use the Vindrasi priestess’s own teachings to destroy them.

Treia spoke to the dragon’s bone as she ran her fingers over it and watched the bright blur that was the candle flame reflected in the bronze. She spoke softly, so as not to disturb Raegar, who must not hear what she was about to do.

“I need to talk to you, Fala. I know you are upset. You must forgive my husband.” Treia’s heart thrilled as she said the word. “Raegar was not trained as a Bone Priestess and he did not know what he was doing. I understand. I spent years studying the art of working with dragons. I—”

“And who are you?”

The voice came from the spiritbone.

“I am Treia, wife of Raegar,” she responded.

“You have been trained as a Bone Priestess. Do you, then, worship the Dragon Goddess of the Kai, the one known as Vindrash?” Fala’s voice was cold and harsh.

“I prayed to Vindrash. I knew no better. I now pray to Aelon.”

“You pray to him. Do you worship him?”

Treia heard a sneer in the dragon’s voice, as if Fala was prepared to accept Treia’s weakness, but would always secretly despise her for it. Treia felt as though she understood the dragon. She hoped the dragon would understand her and decided to risk telling the truth.