Secret Sacrament (12 page)

“Anything you like,” Gabriel replied. “But you should drink plenty of water, too. It will cleanse your body, chase out the last of the poison.”

“It's already chased out,” she said. “I had a dream. I was swimming in a sunny lake, only I was turned inside out, and the water went everywhere.” She giggled. “Even in my bones.”

Gabriel stood up and smoothed her hair gently back from her face. “You might like a bath,” he said. “We'll ask your mother to give you one.”

Syana nodded and lay down, a blissful expression on her face. “I didn't know I had a lump in my ribs that went in and out,” she said, making a pumping motion with her hands. “Did you know?”

“I was vaguely aware of it,” he said. “I think it was your heart, Syana.”

In the hall outside, Jaganath offered Gabriel a velvet bag heavy with precious gems. “For healing my favorite child,” he said. “What you did was like a miracle. Even Salverion could not have been more skillful.”

“I don't want payment, thank you,” said Gabriel.

“None at all?” asked Jaganath, his lips curled disbelievingly. “Is that because of those absurd vows they force you to take?”

Gabriel did not reply, and Jaganath gave a humorless laugh. “They have you under their control, don't they, healer-priest? Still, I accept that you won't be paid. Allow me instead to give you dinner. No—do not protest! I insist. As it happens, I have some important guests who would very much like to meet you.”

“Thank you, but I'd like to go back to the Citadel,” said Gabriel.

“I said I insist.” Jaganath's tone was velvet-smooth, but his eyes were like flint. “I will not have it said that my daughter's healer was allowed to go away with no reward, not even a dinner. Come.”

He led the way along gleaming black marble floors to the dining room, rich with silken hangings, glorious lamps, and luxurious cushions. The
room was firelit, colorful, and warm, yet to Gabriel it felt deathly cold, and he longed to run from it. Instead he bowed politely as he saw the other guests. They were indeed important; they were four of the Empress's most influential advisers, next to Jaganath himself. Three of them Gabriel had seen before at the palace; one he knew from childhood days.

The men were seated on cushions at the low table, but they stood as they were introduced, and Gabriel went to them and shook their hands in the Navoran way. There was Nagay, the commander of the Navoran navy, who had attended the funeral of Gabriel's father. He had not altered; he was still handsome and imposing, with an easy smile and great personal magnetism. As he shook Gabriel's hand, he said, in his gravelly voice: “You're Jager's son, aren't you?”

“Yes, I am,” said Gabriel. “I met you four years ago. You were at my father's funeral.”

“Of course. It was a sad day for Navora, that. And for you. If I remember rightly, there was a commotion over you not wanting to take up Jager's business. Your decision was the right one, obviously, since you're an Elected One now. I offer you my congratulations, as much for your determination as for your ability. Jager's brothers would have been daunting opponents.”

“They were, my lord,” said Gabriel, his unease diminishing under Nagay's disarming smile.

The next guest was Kamos, commander of Navora's army. He was a formidable man, not unlike the navigator in appearance, but without Nagay's magnetism. He was blond and tanned and still as muscled as if he had fought his latest battle only yesterday. A distinguished warrior, he was responsible for most of the treaties signed between Navora and foreign nations over the past fifteen years. Now he lived at the palace and was known for his decadence and the considerable influence he had with the Empress. With Nagay, he advised her on all matters to do with foreign nations, and wars were waged on the basis of what he said.

There was Sanigar, esteemed astrologer. He was short, with a bald head and a benign, innocent look. Believing in the influence of the stars, the Empress seldom made a decision without first consulting him. “It's good to meet you at last, Gabriel,” he said in a soft, effeminate voice. “I have heard many things about you, all remarkable.”

There was nothing Gabriel could say to that, so he turned to the fourth and final guest. The intensity of this man struck Gabriel like a blow, and he felt the man's energy flowing from him as they
shook hands. He was Kanyiida, the High Priest from the Navoran temple. Like Jaganath, he was very tall and dark and charismatic, and his eyes, an unexpected blue, were perceptive and disturbing. Gabriel knew nothing about the High Priest, except that he had tremendous control over the Navoran people. Gabriel could understand why. Feeling awed by the man's presence, he shook hands, then sank gratefully onto the thick cushion Jaganath indicated to him. It was not a good place; he was alone on one side of the table, with Jaganath on his right, and the other four opposite him. He felt alienated, like the accused in a court. As he thought that, he realized that the only influential adviser absent was the new High Judge, Cosimo.

“We have already finished the main part of our meal,” said Jaganath pleasantly, “but I will have the slaves prepare for you whatever you wish.”

“Just fresh fruit, please, and some water,” said Gabriel. The little wine he had sipped in Syana's room had affected him more than he would have believed possible; the golden utensils and platters of round cheeses on the table were hazy, and the lamps were overbright. There was a confused buzzing in his head, which he knew was a forewarning. He rubbed his eyes
and tried to gather his wits.

“I hear that you're studying already with the great Sheel Chandra,” said Kanyiida, in a deep, rich voice. “Salverion must be very pleased with your progress.”

How did the High Priest know what he was doing? Puzzled and suspicious, Gabriel said nothing.

“Your work with Sheel Chandra must be very satisfying,” said Sanigar in his soft voice, “especially considering your visionary gifts.”

“All my work is satisfying, my lord Sanigar,” said Gabriel.

“You're happy, then, at the Citadel?” said Sanigar. “Even though it inhibits you?”

“What do you mean, lord?”

The astrologer shrugged apologetically, his bald dome gleaming softly in the lamplight. “Well, it seems to us that you are being held back,” he explained. “In spite of your abilities, it's obvious that Sheel Chandra has not yet taught you all you need to know about dream interpretation.”

“I'm sorry, but I can't discuss my training,” said Gabriel. He picked up a small knife and began peeling an orange. The knife was silver, and about its handle wound a silver snake with opals and emeralds in its scales. He thought of the snake that had bitten the child, and something bothered
him, niggling in the back of his mind. There flashed across his memory the picture of an upturned toy basket and a black snake slithering from it. Yet what had Jaganath said about a pot in the courtyard? He frowned, trying to remember, and, as he thought, he glanced upward.

On the wall in front of him was a mural depicting various mythical creatures from Jaganath's religion. At the heart of the mural was a being half animal, half human, and it was staring directly down at him with bright black eyes. The hollows in its gaunt cheeks were shadowy, and its gums and pointed teeth were prominent, the lips curling back from them as it smiled. There was something terrible and fascinating about it. While he stared, the face seemed to change; the features clouded and the skin dissolved and another face peered out, a different one, cunning and powerful and too hideous to endure. He cried out. The knife slipped, and the blade, razor sharp, sank deep into the ball of his thumb. The cut stung, bitter with the orange juice. The slave offered him a bowl of water and a clean cloth, and he dipped his hand in the liquid, turning it instantly scarlet. Then he held the cloth hard against the cut, staunching the flow of blood.

“So, you recognize demons when you see them!” murmured Jaganath, looking amused. “Don't be
alarmed, my friend. Demons can be very useful accomplices. And they inhabit only one of the many dimensions open to us, if we have the Vision. But you don't yet fully understand visionary things. The Citadel Masters are very cautious, and there is much they won't explain at first. This is understandable, considering the limited talents of most of their disciples. But you're exceptional, Gabriel. Potential like yours cannot be restrained or denied. Already the Empress has opened a new door for you, for that greater power you have. It disturbs and grieves me that you are not adequately helped by your Masters. I have the greatest respect for Sheel Chandra and Salverion, but in holding you back they're doing you a grave disservice.”

The slave filled Gabriel's goblet with water again, and he drank it thankfully. His head was beginning to clear, though his feelings of disquiet and danger were stronger than ever.

“Lord Jaganath,” he said, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt, “I appreciate your concern, but I won't discuss my Masters or my training. You don't know what I'm learning, so you can't comment on it.”

“But I do know what you're learning,” said Jaganath. “Or, rather, I know what you're
not
learning. I don't think you realize the enormous
responsibility of dream interpretation. Are you told about the hidden dangers, the risks?”

“I am aware of the responsibility,” Gabriel replied. “I've always asked the Empress to check my interpretations with my Masters. Since she doesn't, I hoped she checked them with you.”

“Ah—but she doesn't,” said Jaganath. “She trusts only you, in the understanding of her dreams. And dreams are subtle, ambiguous. Interpretations—especially the wrong ones—can cause destruction and death. In fact, in your last dream interpretation, you did cause a death. That's why we're so concerned.”

Gabriel went cold. “I don't know what you mean, lord.”

“Haven't you heard?” asked Jaganath, his sleek eyebrows raised. “That last dream you interpreted for Her Highness. What was it, now? The pile of grain, with a rat sitting on top, eating it. Was that right?”

Gabriel nodded. It was the dream he had interpreted while Jaganath was in the room.

“Yes. That dream. You told the Empress it implied that something precious to her was being stolen.”

“That's true,” agreed Gabriel. “That's what the dream did imply.”

“It's most unfortunate that you weren't more
precise. She took you to mean that the city treasurer, who had held that highly honored position for fifteen years, was robbing the Navoran treasury and secretly adding to his personal wealth. She had him beheaded yesterday. We're still grieving, for he was an old friend of ours, and his wife and children are distraught. It was such a little dream, such an easy interpretation, such a monstrous result. I hope you were right, Gabriel.”

Gabriel went white. “I didn't tell her the corn signified the city wealth,” he said. “I told her I thought it meant her health, her well-being. I warned her to think carefully about the dream, and I urged her to discuss it with Sheel Chandra. If she did not, I can't be—”

“Keep calm, my friend,” said the High Priest soothingly. “We are not blaming you. But you must realize that a man has been executed because of one of your interpretations. You've made solemn vows that direct and control your healing powers. But in your dealings with the Empress and her dreams, you have nothing to guide you—nothing to stand on, no experienced teachers to help you. In your dream interpretations, you're free. And the consequences, as we have seen, can be catastrophic. You already realize you need guides in this—but you need guides who are close to Her Majesty and who are well informed in matters of
the Empire. For all their extraordinary gifts, your Masters at the Citadel remain secluded and unaware of worldly things. This isn't their fault, but they can't possibly guide you wisely in your dealings with the Empress. This is why the Empress has never discussed your dream interpretations with them, despite your advice; they could be no help.”

“It would be a sensible move, to consult with us,” agreed Nagay. “You don't know the Empress, Gabriel, and when you tell her what you think a dream means, you have no idea what she'll do with that knowledge. Honesty is a noble thing, and the advice of a true friend is to be valued above all else. Your own father taught me that, and doubtless it's what he told you as well. But sometimes the truth must be tempered with discretion and experience. I wish you'd let us help you in your new position with the Empress.”

“It isn't a new position,” said Gabriel. “I'm a healer-priest, not a dream interpreter. I'd be very happy if you could persuade Her Majesty not to call on me again.”

“We'd all be very happy if we could persuade the Empress to do what we want,” remarked Kamos. “But the truth is, she does what
she
wants. We have no choice but to jump when she cracks the whip. And, whether you like it or not,
she's claimed you as her personal analyzer of royal dreams. You may continue with your lofty position on your own, or accept the advice and help of those a good deal wiser and older than yourself. I know which I would rather do, when people's lives hang on what I say.”

Gabriel toyed with the handle of the silver knife and glanced at the door. “I'll consider it,” he said.

“That is all we ask,” said Jaganath, beaming. Leaning forward, he pushed a platter of bread rolls and cheese toward Gabriel, and a silver jug of wine. “Now eat, please. Relax; enjoy good conversation and the company of friends who care about you.”

To Gabriel's relief, the conversation shifted from himself to politics. Musicians came in and began softly playing, and the music made Gabriel relax. Then he heard the Shinali mentioned, and his nerves went taut again.

“I had an omen last night about the Shinali,” Sanigar was saying. “It was a vision, a sword raised between us and the barbarians. What have we done wrong, to upset them?”