The Obsidian Temple (19 page)

The healer cleared her throat. “We have been working with Ava the past ten-­days, trying to help her understand what caused her to run off. We've spoken with Joisha about the nature of the blocks she and the healer put on Ava.” She looked around at them. “Master Ursa has also spoken to Ava's teachers, just to see what their thoughts were on Ava herself.”

“It depended on the class,” Master Ursa said. “In weapons class, her teacher mentioned her being girlish one moment and deadly the next. That when she focused, she forgot she was working with other humans and would sometimes go for killing blows to finish off her opponents, even when told not to. This was especially true against male opponents. When in history and religious class, she was a typical fourteen-­year-­old girl—­forgetful sometimes, average scholarship, average focus on her tasks.”

“With us, she is pure focus, as I'm sure Anchee told you,” Clay added. “I've never seen such concentration in someone so young.”

“And with the healing classes we've been giving, she is calm in every emergency, unflappable,” the healer said. “I could hardly believe what her warrior teacher was telling me until I spied on her training class.”

Ava stirred and looked up at them. “They all turn into different ­people from Illian. Sometimes I get confused and I think that Master Ursa is Farrah, the healer is my mother, or a warrior I'm sparring with are those men in the warehouse . . .” She shuddered and hunched forward, hugging herself.

The healer shook her head. “Ava was never able to deal with what happened to her. And because the blocks were in place, she also did not fully understand her mother's death. The blocks have suddenly been wrenched away, and everything is cascading on her at once. They're causing her to have delusions.”

A gasp from behind Master Ursa made her turn to look at the warrior against the wall. “Is there a problem, warrior Turin?” she asked, her voice hard.

The warrior shook his head and snapped back to attention, trying not to look at any of them. “No Master Ursa, no problem,” he snapped.

“This goes no further than this room,” she warned him. He stood straight and looked ahead, the model of a perfect soldier, and she turned back to them.

Ava looked around at them miserably. “Sometimes I don't even know what I've been doing,” she admitted. “Everyone tells me what a great job I've done on the mandalas, and I don't even remember drawing the energy lines. I'm just standing there, and I remember getting to the hall, but not doing anything while I was there.”

“So you don't remember running away?” Sulis asked.

Ava shook her head. “I remember having to get away. Then I found myself in the woods. I barely remember trying to find my way back. I woke up with you and Master Anchee beside me, and felt like I'd been scratched up and bruised, but I didn't know how I even got into the room,” she admitted.

“Can't you go in and put the blocks back in?” Sulis asked.

“Not without damaging her more,” The healer shook her head. “As well-­intentioned as the blocks were, because they were removed so quickly, they did much harm to her mind.”

Grandmother shook her head. “I did not know she would be the Loom when we put in the blocks. I didn't realize that she would be channeling so much energy. I am terribly sorry we did this to you, Ava.”

Ava looked up. “I know you didn't mean to hurt me. And they did work, for a while.”

Master Anchee nodded thoughtfully. “Currently, Ava has no control over how she processes these memories,” he said. “How do we help her keep in control and recognize when memories overcome the present?”

The healer spread her hands. “We will be working with her,” she said. “Trying to see if we can give her more control and ultimately draw all the facets back together into a whole. I will be looking to Clay and the rest of you to help with the task.”

“I didn't want it to be secret from you,” Ava said. “I don't have any family here, but you've all become my family. I wanted you to know, in case you want to replace me, find a new Loom.”

Sulis put an arm around Ava. “You are one of us. There is no replacement for you. We'll make this work, somehow.”

Master Ursa nodded. “I'm assigning Healer Rana exclusively to Ava. She will attend and guard Ava, so she can guide her interactions. We will lighten Ava's workload. I've already spread the story that Ava might have healing talent, so there is a reason for Rana to focus on her.” She looked around the circle seriously. “I don't want this talked about except within this circle of Chosen. It would be very bad for morale here if ­people learned that the Loom was struggling with such a difficulty.”

“But we can talk among ourselves, right?” Sulis said. “We won't be much help to Ava if we are gagged.”

Healer Rana nodded. “The more we can figure out among ourselves, and work with Ava, the better. We want to protect her from the judgment of ­people who wouldn't understand, who would see this a serious weakness.”

“We can help her not feel so pressured,” Anchee said. “Ava, if you start to feel like we are pushing you too much, tell us or Rana. Maybe we can lighten your burden.”

Master Ursa stood, and they respectfully stood as well. “Keep me informed of all of your progress. If there's any way I can ease your paths, I will.” She put a hand on Ava's shoulder. “Stay strong, little one. We'll solve this difficulty. I'll let you get back to training.”

They stared around at each other a moment, not certain what to say. Then Clay rubbed his hands together.

“Ava, I was just breaking down the energy of the positions for Sulis and Anchee using the mandala you chalked and energized yesterday,” he said. “You and Rana may want to settle and watch. Joisha, start to think about what your dance feels like, when they are on the yellow energy. You will need to echo that energy back at them so you can give it to the Weaver.”

Sulis hung back, talking to Clay when they were done, letting Ava and the rest of the group wander off to midmeal. Ashraf came to stand beside her. Once Ava was out of sight, Ashraf put his arms around Sulis.

Clay grinned at them. “Good energy,” he said.

“I wish we could help Ava,” Sulis said. “Didn't the One warn you about this, send you dreams?”

Clay shook his head. “I can only have faith that this will not affect what happens in the future since I was not warned about this possibility. I did see a future where the community of Kabandha was divided and a feeling of warning that this must not happen, or we will fail. But nothing specifically about the Chosen.”

Ashraf spoke from behind Sulis. “Maybe that means there is another Loom out there that isn't broken?” he queried. “I love Ava like my own sister, but if this pressure is literally tearing her mind to pieces, we should send out a search for someone to replace her.”

Sulis was going to protest, but Clay was already shaking his head.

“It has never worked that way,” he said. “Throughout history, since this prophecy was recorded centuries ago, the elders have gathered the names of those called to be trained as Looms and Shuttles. Never has there been more than one Loom and three Shuttles. Even when one of the Shuttles went mad, another was not born until that man died. I do not know why that is so, but the histories seem to prove it. It is Ava or it is failure in this lifetime.”

“Has it been tried in another lifetime?” Sulis asked. “Has there been another attempt by the deities to regain their lost powers?”

Clay shook his head. “This is the first I've heard of a Weaver's being born.”

“So this could be it,” Sulis said. “This could be the only chance to make the One whole again?”

Clay shook his head. “I believe there is always another time, another chance. If we fail, there will be others to take our place. It will be more difficult for them; this could be the easiest chance. But I don't believe it is the only. The world will not end if the deities get back their powers. It will be a less kind place to live in, but that will motivate others to step forward as they did with the first sundering and fight to protect the ones they love.”

“So what do we do about Ava?” Sulis asked, miserable.

“Love her,” Clay said. “Let her cry, scream, and remember her past. See if love can make her whole again.”

Clay left the two of them in the hall. Sulis turned and faced Ashraf, and his hands moved around to her back as she roped hers around his shoulders. He bent down and kissed her. She could feel a flare along their bond when she kissed him back, but she kept it damped a bit, kept her emotions in check.

“Not bad,” he graded. “I preferred white-­hot flames, but a little heat can be nice as well.

“We need to give you to the healers for the day,” Sulis advised. “They're the ones who taught me to block those lines of energy. You know I'm not always in great control of my temper, so there's a chance we could lose it again if you're not blocking as well.”

Ashraf smiled and kissed her again. When they came up for air, he reluctantly released her. “We'll miss midmeal,” he said. They started for the eating hall hand in hand. When they got close, they dropped hands and went into the hall, shoulder to shoulder.

“I wish there were more privacy around this place,” Ashraf said. He shot her a sly look. “I can't wait until we can lose control again, in a private room, with nothing pulling us apart and an entire night ahead of us.”

Sulis flushed all over. “I second that vision,” she said with a sigh. “Add a fine liqueur and a soft bed, and I'll be living a dream.”

 

Chapter 17

“THINGS ARE GETTIN
G
desperate,” Kadar updated Nabil. They were sitting on the flagstones in the courtyard after sparring, cooling down. Nabil had been out of town a ­couple of weeks, checking on the Forsaken refugees in the mountains and had returned that morning. “No sign of concessions by the Voices. ­People are becoming even angrier about the walkouts, and the Forsaken families are starting to suffer, being penned in the district without freedom or fresh food.”

Kadar wiped sweat off his forehead with a sleeve. “There've been rumors that Aryn is forming a council to review the Forsaken families, which was one of the demands. And Farrah has been told the Tribune was looking into wage increases before his health turned. Now that he's bedridden, nothing has come out of the Temple for the Forsaken,” he added.

“But there's no escape for the Forsaken while the Temple dithers,” Nabil said. “Since the riots and massacre, they're afraid that ­people will come after them again, but they can't go someplace safe. We're darned lucky there hasn't been any more violence.”

“Families escaped when the Forsaken killed the
feli
,” Kadar reminded him. “That gave them some hope that there is a way out.”

“The ­people we thought escaped when they killed the
feli
never showed at Stonycreek. I couldn't find any sign of them on the road, and I sent ­people searching in the backwoods for them, in case they were lost. Severin never contacted any of the Southerner caravaners to help transport them. As far as we know, they were captured by Voras's men. Hopefully, they were killed when they were captured.”

“You hope they died?” Kadar asked sharply.

Nabil shook his head. “It's either that or they were captured and questioned. We've never let the Forsaken know the exact location of the town before. Severin and Farrah broke that rule, and now the whole town is in danger. We can hold off bandits, but not an entire army of Voras.”

“I don't get it,” Kadar said, frustrated. “Severin has to know the danger. He's better with strategy than either of us. Why would he take such a chance? Why not use us when we can get the Forsaken to the town with less danger?”

Nabil looked at him steadily. “To make certain you are out of the loop,” he said.

Kadar's heart started beating faster. “You think this is directed at me?”

“I know it is,” Nabil said, and looked away. “He wants to make you look weak. He wants you to seem unreliable in front of Farrah, so he can take first take your place with her, then take over the movement.”

“Which explains why they didn't tell us about the escape plans,” Kadar said.

“You told me to tell you if I saw something between Severin and Farrah,” Nabil said, still not looking at Kadar. “Even if it's something that might anger you.”

Kadar tried to breathe evenly, tried to breathe at all. “And?”

“The night before I left. I was supposed to pick up the laundry, and I found them together.”

“You mean . . . You're sure?” Kadar asked. He grimaced and looked away as his heart plummeted to his shoes. This was what he'd suspected the night he'd confronted Farrah about the
feli
. “They were having sex? No mistake?”

“No mistake.”

Kadar tamped down the anger he felt, swallowed the betrayal. “I've been over to see her a ­couple of times since you left, but she's been cold, distant, and too busy to speak more than a ­couple of words. I thought it was because of the warning I gave her, and I've kept my distance. Do they know you saw them?”

Nabil nodded. “Yeah, Farrah saw me. I'm sorry, Kadar. If you don't want to be a part of this anymore, I'll keep it to myself, work on my own. You can be out of the whole mess.”

Kadar shook his head, getting to his own feet. “No, the only thing this changes is what's between Farrah and me. I'd like you to report to Farrah and Severin about the Forsaken we lost. Make sure they know what kind of danger they put everyone in.”

Nabil put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, then walked to the house. Kadar stood a moment, lost in anger and pain. He wanted to kill Severin. Go to his big fancy house and beat the bastard to a bloody pulp. Kadar slammed his fist into the wall, relishing a pain that was physical, not mental. He hit the wall again, then leaned his head against it, breathing heavily.

“You all right, Kadar?” Simon's voice brought him back to himself, cradling his bleeding knuckles while he tried to find some sense of calm.

Kadar took a deep breath and turned to his cousin. “Fine, thanks Simon. Just had some bad news is all.”

He strode to the house, avoiding the stares of the Forsaken help and his family, and went to his room, closing the door.

Amber was on his bed. He sat beside her, and she stood, stretched, and started purring. She climbed onto his lap and curled up, settling in a golden ball. Kadar reached out with his mind.

Kadar?
Sulis's mindvoice was surprised. It was a little weaker than usual.
What's wrong?

She betrayed me,
Kadar told his sister, his best friend through the years, anguish showing in his sending.
Farrah is sleeping with Severin.

Oh no,
Sulis sent.
Hold on, let me get out of this lesson and find a quiet corner with Djinn.

Kadar could almost feel her walking, then the link strengthened when Djinn entered the meld.

What happened? How did you find out?
Sulis asked.

Kadar filled her in on the details.

Stupid cow,
Sulis said, contempt plain in her sending.
You are twice the man Severin is. If she can't get her ­people free in a moral way, without that criminal, she isn't good enough to be a leader. She certainly isn't good enough for you and Datura.

Kadar shook his head even though she couldn't see him.
I loved her, or at least I thought I did, until everything started happening with the
feli
.

And you learned who she really was inside,
Sulis finished for him.
You loved who you wanted her to be. And she probably tried to be better than who she was for you. That's no shame on you, and more shame on her that she couldn't keep to a good path.

Kadar shook his head again, this time because he was feeling the intense headache that told him he was losing the link.

I want more for Datura,
he told Sulis.
I want her to have a mother, like we didn't.

He felt Sulis scoff.
We had half a dozen mothers, if I recall
, she corrected.
That's the desert way. Everyone meddling in everyone else's business. Bring Datura here, Kadar. Come where you are loved, and she will be spoiled.

Kadar thought about it, through the pounding of his head. It would be the easiest solution if he just left with Datura, never having to see Farrah again. But it was not the right decision while he could still guide the movement away from the violence and hatred that threatened to overwhelm and derail it.

Not yet,
he said.
It isn't the right time.

He felt Sulis's sigh.
You sound like Master Clay,
she said.
He's into timing. Kadar, I can feel your headache from here. Go do what you need to. You know your family is here waiting for you and Datura, whatever your choices. Love and misses.

Love and misses,
Kadar sent back, then rubbed his temples as the connection was lost. He wasn't certain he felt less angry after talking to Sulis, but he felt more connected with himself, with what he needed to do. Farrah had chosen her path even if Severin had guided her to it. He'd confront her about it, let her know she couldn't have it both ways. But he wasn't going to abandon the rest of the Forsaken to the violence that threatened to engulf the movement, and he wasn't going to step down as one of the leaders.

Kadar was able to do his work and have last meal with his family, ignoring their questioning gazes at his bruised knuckles. He sang his beautiful daughter a song before bedtime and knew he'd always be grateful to Farrah for giving him this bright, precocious child.

Kadar woke near dawn to an eerie howling and crashing downstairs. He stumbled into the hallway, almost running into Uncle Tarik, who ran out as well, a lighted oil lamp in one hand, a knife in the other. They rushed down to the living room, and a strange sight met them in the dim light of the lamp.

Amber was howling from the shoulder of a man dressed in black, latched onto him with her claws as he flailed and tried to escape her slashing claws.

The man saw them and hunched over, hands covering his face. “Get it off me,” he begged. “Don't let your devil attack no more; I'm just a messenger, not stealin' nothin'.”

Uncle Tarik grabbed the man's arm, and Amber jumped off and trotted over to rub herself on Kadar's legs, purring madly, pleased with herself.

“What kind of messenger comes in the dead of night, dressed in black with dark face paint on?” Uncle Tarik asked roughly, shaking him.

“Farrah sent me, with her sister,” the man said, waving toward a small form huddled on the ground.

Kadar ran over to Thea, who seemed heavily asleep. She didn't wake when he shook her. “What did you do to her?” he asked.

“Farrah made her sleep, so she wouldn't cry out none,” he said. “She said you promised to take care of Thea, no matter what. That none of it is her fault, and you need to get her out of the city.”

Kadar grabbed the man's collar and raised his fist. “What has Farrah done?” he demanded. “What are she and Severin up to?”

Uncle Tarik restrained Kadar. “None of that here,” he said, jerking his head toward the door, where the rest of the family stood staring. “Let's take him out to the courtyard and ask some questions.”

The man shoved Kadar suddenly, and dodged Uncle Tarik's grasp. He dodged Nabil, who'd just appeared at the door from the courtyard. They chased him out of the hall, but he disappeared into the night before they'd gone a few steps. Nabil, faster than the other two, continued the chase as Kadar and Uncle Tarik turned back to the hall.

Aunt Raella and Dana were crouched over Thea when they returned.

“What is going on, Kadar?” Aunt Raella asked, clearly furious.

“I don't know,” Kadar admitted, helplessly. “Farrah hasn't spoken to me in days. I should go to the district, see what's going on.”

“Not before dawn,” Uncle Tarik said. “If something has happened, this town could explode, and I don't want you out in it.

Nabil came in the room. “He's right. Something bad's happened. The Temple bells are ringing, and I can hear gongs south of here, near the heart of the city. Nothing you could do at this point but get yourself arrested. We'll wait for news, then act.”

Kadar could hear the bells, dim but obvious now that he was paying attention. At Aunt Raella's direction, he carried Farrah's sister up the stairs and laid her on a bedroll Dana spread in the nursery. Sanuri sat in a corner and rocked back and forth, upset by the commotion.

He came downstairs to find Uncle Tarik and Nabil looking out the front doorway, listening to the bells.

“Did you see Severin yesterday?” Kadar asked Nabil.

He shook his head. “I had too much to do here at the hall after getting back from the journey. I was going to talk to him today.”

They stood and listened as the night lightened into dawn. Their neighbors came out of their houses and started mingling in the streets, calling questions. The bells eventually stopped, but everyone stayed on alert. Most of the neighborhood was out in the street when a soldier rode into the neighborhood.

“Get in your houses and stay there,” he ordered. “No one leaves this neighborhood. The city is locked down.”

“What's happening?” a neighbor shouted.

“The Temple Children's Home has been attacked,” the soldier told him. “The guards are dead and the children are missing. We don't want riots, so stay in your homes, in your neighborhood, and report anyone who comes here to make trouble.”

As the man rode off, Kadar wondered how they'd report anyone if they weren't allowed to leave their homes. The street emptied out, and Uncle Tarik pulled on Kadar's shoulder to get him inside. They found the others sitting tensely in the social room. Uncle Tarik called in the servants and guards and gave them the news.

“I'm going back to my family,” Aunt Raella said. “I'm taking the boys and going home before summer sets in, and we can't travel the desert. Having children kidnapped will drive Northerners mad, and I don't want to be trapped here.”

“Aaron is still weeks away with the wagons and mules, and won't be back until just before the heat sets in,” Uncle Tarik said wearily, rubbing a hand over his face. “And we're not allowed to leave. We don't have a way out for you.”

“I'll buy a wagon,” Aunt Raella said stubbornly. “Gather other Southerners who want to leave and travel as a group. I'm not staying here while these ­people kill each other.”

“I need to get to the Forsaken district,” Kadar told Nabil.

“The Forsaken district's the last place we want to be seen,” Nabil said softly. “Besides, she won't be there. That's why she delivered her sister. She was probably one of the kidnappers and is hiding with the children.

“Southern spies,” a childish voice muttered beside Kadar, and he looked down. Sanuri sat by his feet, mindlessly knotting a length of cloth. “No other way they could get the weapons to do this. Come down hard on the spies. Can't keep the city locked down, bad choice, Templar. Let the Southerners out, see who goes to the Forsaken. Let Southern wagons leave, but search their wagons and arrest the spies.”