The World Weavers (2 page)

But Jonas had spoken those words to the Magistrate while channeling Parasu. It was Parasu's will. The Herald gave Jonas a sharp look, sensing his internal struggle.

“Is that true, Voice of Parasu?” she asked.

Jonas opened his mouth to protest, to say it wasn't his will.

“That is the will of Parasu,” Parasu said, using Jonas's voice. Jonas bowed his head and looked down at his hands.

The Herald gave a heavy sigh. “I suppose Ivanha agrees with Voras, as always,” she said.

“She does,” the Mother Superior said.

“Then I am outnumbered,” the Herald said. “I will bow to the will of the Curia. I want the transcripts from the interrogation of the Southerners on my desk as soon as you question the family. I see no reason to restrict travel for the other Southerners who were not involved with the Forsaken.”

“A conspiracy exists. Arresting the Hasifels will alert other instigators. We need to lock down the city, Herald,” the Templar said. Jonas looked up, surprised at the man's urgent tone.

“If we were going to lock down the city, it should have been done right after the Children's Home was attacked,” the Herald protested. “Why are you insisting on this now? This is locking the gate after the cows have escaped!”

“Ivanha agrees with Voras,” the Mother Superior interrupted. “Once one conspirator is arrested, the rest of the spies will flee. We need to stop them.”

They looked at Jonas's side of the table. The Magistrate and scholar conferred in whispers across Jonas before addressing the table.

“We see no reason to doubt the Templar's information,” the Magistrate said. “We do not feel it will harm relations with the Southern Territory to close the city for a short period while we obtain more information.”

The frustration on the Herald's face matched Jonas's internal conflict.

“So be it, but I want it noted that I do not agree with these actions, and I consider detaining ­people of the Southern Territory a precursor to a war I will not condone.” The Herald swept up her papers and left the room.

The Templar looked triumphant and walked over to speak with the Mother Superior. While they whispered, Jonas stood with the Magistrate and scholar and gathered his papers. As they left the room, Jonas turned toward the dormitories. The Magistrate put a hand on his arm to stop him. Jonas reluctantly turned.

“I know that bowing to the will of Parasu is difficult,” the Magistrate said, his voice sympathetic. “You are young and cannot yet understand why we must make these decisions. As the Voice, you must trust in Parasu.”

Jonas gave a short nod and turned away. He reversed direction, heading toward the Temple of the One instead, hoping to lose himself in the dark peacefulness of the domed building. He also hoped he might see Alannah, one of his pledge mates and a Counselor of the One who'd become his confidant the past few months. Talking to her refocused his thoughts. Talking to her made him feel like he was still completely human.

 

CHAPTER 2

T
ori stared down at the faded epitaph carved into the granite grave—­
Resting place of Vrishni Saria Agnew.

Saria's name was still legible after hundreds of years. Tori's ancestors had carefully tended and recarved the letters as they faded.

Saria had been a Vrishni, a wandering prophet. She had traveled to the desert and given the Southerners the prophecy that the Chosen would weave the deities and the One into a whole once again. But Vrishni Saria had kept one final vision secret from the Southerners. She had returned to her home in the North and started a family, knowing that her bloodline was the key to completing the prophecy and keeping the deities from destroying mankind. The Descendants of the Prophet Saria created their own carefully concealed towns, trained their children to defend themselves and hid from the followers of the deities. Saria's Descendants revered her almost as a deity herself.

“All her Descendants except this one,” Tori murmured, clutching a bundle of flowers in her hand. Tori's
feli
, Zara, bumped her white-­and-­black striped head against Tori's waist, sensing her mood. Tori knelt and placed the flowers beside the headstone.

Today was the Spring Festival of the Founding. Tori's temple, which was far north of Illian, and the Northern mountain temples like it, sent acolytes out to decorate the graves of important acolytes and Vrishni. But these flowers weren't in honor of Saria.

“I'm surprised to see you decorating her grave,” a familiar male voice said from behind her. “I know you despise your role as Descendant.”

“These flowers aren't for her,” Tori said, glancing over her shoulder. “And I don't despise being a Descendant. I despise what it has cost my family.”

Evan was dressed in travel leathers like her own and bore an uncanny resemblance to her, even though they were distant cousins. Each had thick black brows and hair, though Tori bobbed her hair and Evan pulled his long mane back with a leather cord.

“I forgot,” Evan said, his stern features softening. “Your children . . . they were buried here as well?”

Tori gritted her teeth. “And my husband. You should not forget. They were murdered for the Descendants' cause. They're the reason I joined the Temple, to make myself a bridge between the Temple and the Descendants and prevent more needless deaths.”

Evan tilted his head, looking at her. “Is that how you think of yourself?” he asked. “Some Descendants would say you are a heretic who recklessly risked all of us to get a
feli
.”

Tori stood and dusted off her leathers. “And the Temple would say I'm a heretic for following Vrishni Saria and the prophecy. But the One believes in me and clearly the elders among the Descendants believe in me, or you would not be here answering my summons. Or did you come to tell me our ­people won't gather under my calling? I don't see an army behind you.”

“I am the messenger. The Descendants are gathering, arming themselves. They will meet us on the road to Illian,” Evan said. “Amon already travels south, answering a call of his own.”

Tori grimaced. Amon had censured her translations of the Vrishni's scriptures and spoken against her decision to seek out the Temple and bond with a
feli
. She was happy he would be out of her way, but worried about the allies he might alienate in the desert.

“Are you ready to go?” Evan asked. “Your summons said you were called to immediate action. We must go meet our army. A large group of Descendants camped by the road, waiting for us, will attract dangerous attention.”

Tori nodded. “I think my immediate plans will dismay you, though,” she admitted. “The One calls me to become a Counselor for her as well as a Descendant. I had a vision. I must travel to the temples north of the mountains to create a bridge between the Descendants and the One.”

“How so?” Evan asked, frowning.

“The One will choose Counselors from among the deities' acolytes at those temples. We will leave a few Descendants at each temple to teach the new Counselors how to shield their temple during the final battle.”

“I didn't bring anyone with me to leave here,” Evan said. “I thought the plan was to travel to Illian and use our shielding to support Amon's efforts from there.”

Tori shook her head and brushed past Evan, walking down the stone path to the wooden backdoor of the temple. She knew the temple buzzed inside with acolytes decorating and setting up tables and chairs for the endless sermons that the townsfolk would attend later in the day. They were unaware that she was about to turn the order of this temple upside down.

“We will send some teachers back,” Tori said.

Evan grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop before she could open the door. Zara snarled and he quickly released her and stepped back.

“Tori, we don't have time for these flights of fancy,” he said. “Amon expects us in Illian to support him from afar when the final battle takes place.”

“The reason the Descendants exist is to bring the One back to wholeness,” Tori snarled. “Ignoring the One's actual needs because the Descendants have become tangled in dogma is stupidity. Close your eyes, reach out to the One, and tell me that I'm wrong. Go on.”

Evan glared at her a moment, then closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as his face and body relaxed. After a moment his brow furrowed and his eyes snapped open.

“You are not wrong,” he said. “But I know we must be in Illian before the final battle, or Amon and the desert Chosen will fail.”

Tori nodded and turned back to the door. “We will not let them fail,” she said. She paused with her hand on the door, preparing to leave behind her life as an acolyte of Parasu. Zara leaned against her, comforting her.

Tori opened the door and stepped into her new role as a harbinger of change.

K
adar sat on a cushion in the back of an old warehouse the warriors of the One had turned into a meeting hall, and planned his escape in his head.

“All the important ­people are here, eh?” Ashraf said, settling in beside him. He gestured to the gathering. “Chosen on the right, warriors of the One in the center, and scholars from Kabandha on the left. The leaders of the South surround us. Are you not awed?”

Kadar snorted. “Terribly impressed. But focused on making myself small so they don't assign me any duties.”

“Your friend Dani is trying to be small as well,” Ashraf said, gesturing to the far wall.

“I think if he could turn invisible, he would,” Kadar said sympathetically. “He traveled all this way and his Chosen screams and threatens to kill him every time they meet. Poor Dani.”

“Poor Ava,” Ashraf said.

“Yes, poor Ava,” Kadar said, looking down at his hands. This meeting was already reminding him of the many Forsaken meetings he'd attended with Farrah. Seeing Farrah's sister, Ava, reminded him he wasn't the only person who had lost Farrah, who had loved Farrah.

“I failed her,” Ashraf said softly. “Farrah, that is, not Ava. I left her when I promised to see her ­people's cause to the end. I loved her like a sister but I did not return to help her, and she thought I abandoned her. It is my fault she turned to the viceroy's son.”

Kadar was silent, wanting to blame Ashraf. But he wasn't that unfair. Ashraf had known Farrah far longer than Kadar, had planned the Forsaken rebellion with her for years before Kadar had come along. He was hurting as well.

“Why did you leave?” Kadar asked.

“I had family business in the South, so I took it as an opportunity to scout at Kabandha, to see if the ruins were in good enough shape to begin sending Forsaken there when you came back at summer's end.”

“And the warriors of the One never let you leave,” Kadar said.

“Yes—­the Kabandha warriors kept me there. And once Sulis arrived, it was clear I was meant to play a role in the prophecy, to be her Guardian. I could not go back after that.”

Kadar glanced at Ashraf. Tears stood in the man's eyes. “Farrah chose her path. She chose someone who would bring her fast results with a disastrous price. I believe you have been given a more dangerous and thankless task here. You have enough to worry about—­don't take the blame for Farrah's fate upon yourself. The One is redirecting your energy to something more worthy, not punishing you.”

They were distracted by Master Anchee in the front of the room, calling the meeting to order.

“Lasha can't keep her eyes off Master Anchee,” Kadar whispered to Ashraf.

Ashraf laughed softly. “It's a Guardian thing. You cannot keep away from your Chosen. Like moth to flame, we are drawn in.”

“And here I thought it was because you were simple, the way you let Sulis abuse you and still follow her around.”

Ashraf elbowed him in the ribs as Master Anchee introduced the Kabandha leader, Master Tull.

“We will need to coordinate between the Tigu nomads and our warriors of the One,” Master Tull said. “The Tigu fighters will winnow down the army Voras sends before they come anywhere near the Obsidian Temple. We will be recruiting guards from the towns around this area.”

Ashraf nudged Kadar again and whispered, “Your grandmother keeps looking back at you.”

Kadar deliberately did not look over at her. “I know. She wants me to go with the Tigus—­they need a
farspeaker
who can relay messages for them. My bags are already packed and I leave tomorrow to go to my daughter in Tsangia, or I would not have come to this meeting for fear of being volunteered.”

A tattooed Tigu warrior stood up in front of the crowd, clad in an embroidered vest and loose, full trousers. He spoke rapidly in the Tigu tongue, pausing occasionally for Master Anchee to translate.

“Turo thanks Master Tull for her hospitality and for inviting him to this gathering,” Anchee said, a moment after the warrior. “My ­people have joined together for the first time in centuries and are prepared to die for the benefit of the One who blesses us with water and health. We require supplies for our last stand: weapons, food for our warriors, and humpbacks to ride into battle. We need a
farspeaker
so we can direct our battle and know the will of this counsel. Praise to the One, the final battle is upon us!”

“Bloodthirsty, is he not?” Ashraf whispered. “The warriors of the One do not look quite as eager to die as he does.”

Kadar shifted on his seat as his grandmother stood and walked to the front of the crowd.

He whispered to Ashraf. “If she volunteers me, I'm slipping out the back, getting on my horse and riding away tonight.”

“I will cover for you. I can stand and start shouting the warrior's oath to confuse them.”

Grandmother addressed the Tigu. “Great warrior Turo, we honor your ­people's sacrifice,” she began.

Something climbed onto Kadar's lap and he looked down to see Amber arching her back against his chest. He put his hands on her silky fur. Another
farspeaker
was calling for him. Kadar closed his eyes and reached with his senses, welcoming the sending of the other man.

Kadar, praise the One,
Uncle Aaron sent. His voice was on the edge of Kadar's range.
I wasn't certain I would be able to reach you. Danger.

Kadar felt his uncle's panic as the connection faded and broke.

“What is it?” Ashraf asked softly, drawn by the fear in his face.

“My uncle is trying to reach me,” Kadar whispered to Ashraf. “I don't want to disrupt the meeting. Can you get Sulis? I need her energy.”

The big man leapt lightly to his feet and ducked through the crowd, which was still focused on the speakers in the front of the room, to Sulis's side. Kadar closed his eyes, seeking Uncle Aaron. Sulis's hand touched his arm as she knelt beside him.

“What do you need?” she whispered.

“It's Uncle Aaron. There's an emergency. He's fading out and I need extra energy.”

Sulis clasped his hand as he focused again, Djinn leaning against her. Her energy joined his. He caught the thread of his uncle's voice once again.

Sulis is boosting me,
Kadar assured him.
What has happened?

Tarik has been taken by Voras's men,
Uncle Aaron sent. Sulis gasped—­she could hear them speaking through their energy link.
The sales hall has been seized by Voras's soldiers. I don't know where they're holding Tarik. I was warned that Illian has been locked down. No Southerners can leave. The deities' troops are seizing entering caravans.

Kadar gazed into Sulis's shocked eyes.
What of Simon?
he asked about his oldest cousin.
Did they take him, too?

I don't know
, Uncle Aaron said, his mindvoice worried.
I am traveling west of the city, staying out of sight of Voras's men.

Sulis sent through him.
Why did they take Uncle Tarik? What do they want with him?

They've taken several Southern men, ones with families in the caravan trade, supposedly to question them about their involvement in the Forsaken rebellion and the kidnappings at the Children's Home last month.

Voras is looking for trade route information, isn't he?
Kadar sent.
The kidnappings gave him a reason to question Southerners without the ­people of Illian protesting.

Sulis interrupted again.
Uncle Tarik would never give them information.

Uncle Aaron's mindvoice was sad.
Voras is very powerful in the mind arts. You learned that yourself. Tarik has been trained in resisting, but his mind could be destroyed in the process.

Kadar recoiled in horror.
What can we do?
he asked.

I'm sorry to leave it to you—­but you must tell your grandmother and the elders. Someone must go tell Raella her husband has been taken. I will gather information and head to Stonycreek, where we have fighters who can help us free the Southerners from Illian. I must go now. It's not safe here.