Bloodstone Part 49

"Well . . . it's hard to say."

"Yes or no."

"No, Earth's Beloved."

"Then we have no reason to suspect anything more than a mild tremor."

"I cannot say, Earth's Beloved. But we've already had two in the last moon. In the past, a series of mild tremors preceded a more serious one."

"Only once," Besul said. "Ten years ago. During the Milk Moon."

"What does the season matter?" Vazh demanded.

"I simply noted-"

"The boy is apparently on cordial terms with our sacred adders," the Supplicant interjected. "Why not let him speak to them?"

"Yes," Eliaxa agreed eagerly. "If the adders are uneasy, he will surely find out why."

The queen considered and finally nodded. "Take the boy to the pit. If the adders tell him that a serious earthquake is imminent, we will evacuate the city. Khonsel-"

"The plans are already in place, Earth's Beloved. They were drawn up ten years ago. During the b.u.t.terfly Moon." Besul's strangled sound of protest drew a smile that immediately faded. "But evacuating the entire city requires time."

"I realize that. Qepo, we thank you for your diligence. Report the boy's findings directly to me. You may go."

After the Qepo had withdrawn, Xevhan cleared his throat. "As to the cripple . . ."

Everyone began speaking at once, but the queen only had eyes for her brother.

Forgive me, Spirit-Hunter. I did try.

"We have allowed him to distract us long enough. Sacrifice him. Tomorrow at dawn. The boy is not to know. After he has spoken to the adders, I want him confined to his chamber. No one is to speak to him."

The queen's eyes demanded his obedience. Malaq could only nod.

"Since none of my priests has been able to ascertain this boy's ident.i.ty, it falls to me to do so-even if that means invading his spirit."

"But that would be a sacrilege!" Eliaxa exclaimed. "The prophecy makes clear-"

"Prophecies are never clear. If he is the Son of Zhe-a fact of which I am very much in doubt-he will understand our need for proof." The queen's gaze swept across the face of each priest and lingered on the Supplicant. "Your counsel is too often absent from our meetings. And your a.s.sistance this last moon was sorely needed."

"My G.o.d is a demanding one, Earth's Beloved. In fact, he summons me now. During your seclusion, he showed me many signs-good and bad-that suggest great changes are coming. But with so many signs to interpret-and so many possible interpretations-it has been difficult for me to advise you. So I have remained silent, communing with the G.o.d and hoping for revelation. But no matter what may befall our people, you have my a.s.surance that I will always love those who worship the G.o.d I serve."

The supplicant rose and bowed, first to the queen, then to the king, and quietly left the chamber. For a moment, they all stared after her.

"Zheron."

Out of the corner of his eye, Malaq saw Xevhan start.

"While we appreciate your diligence in attempting to discover the boy's ident.i.ty, allowing him to take qiij was a grave error. Neglecting to mention it to us, a worse one."

"Forgive me, Earth's Beloved."

"After Midsummer, you will retire to the sanctuary of Avhilat for a moon to reflect on your shortcomings."

A miserable eyrie in the most forsaken part of Zheros. Where he would be cut off from his supply of qiij.

"I will appoint another to carry out the duties of Zheron during your absence."

And that would hurt even more than the loss of qiij.

"Motixa." The queen spoke gently. "Instead of probing the boy's spirit yourself-or pressing the Pajhit to do so-you allowed your hope for the coming of the Son of Zhe to blind you to the possibility that the boy is a fraud. We do not chide you for your faith, but in the future, we hope you will leaven it with skepticism."

"Yes, Earth's Beloved."

"Pajhit."

No gentleness in the voice now and none in the face that regarded him.

"You have allowed your affection for this boy to take precedence over your duties to your people. We must reflect on whether your past service to us outweighs your divided loyalties. After we have examined the boy, we will decide whether you are fit to continue as Pajhit. Until that time, you are relieved of your responsibilities and confined to your chamber."

Malaq bowed his head. "Yes, Earth's Beloved."

Chapter 38.

HIS ROOM FELT LIKE a cairn. Malaq's chamber held the memories of his encounter with his father. So, despite the relentless sun, Keirith took refuge in the garden.

He sat in a small patch of shade, knees drawn up to his chest. The air was almost too hot to breathe. His head ached. His eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep, but he didn't dare close them for then he might dream. If the Big One didn't pursue him, his father would. Or Urkiat.

Niqia had fled indoors, irritable from the heat. Malaq was at the reception. Ysal kept poking his head through the draperies, trying to tempt him with a game of dice, a plate of food, a cup of cool water.

His worried face appeared again. "That girl is here. Hircha. I told her I didn't think you'd want to see her, but she won't go away."

Before he could reply, the draperies were flung aside. Ysal gave a startled yelp as Hircha pushed past him.

"I told you to wait-"

"I need to talk with you."

She seemed tense and agitated. Her fingers kept plucking at her gown.

"It is all right, Ysal. Thank you."

Ysal shot a pained look at Hircha. "I'm only trying to do my duty, you know. It wouldn't kill you to be polite." Still muttering, he left them alone.

"What is it?" Keirith asked. "Is something wrong?"

She hesitated a moment, then blurted out, "I saw something. When I took the kitchen sc.r.a.ps to the gate. For the poor. We do that during the festival. After the sezhta. We take food to all four gates-"

"Aye. And?"

"I was at the western gate. I saw the Zheron's guards coming up the path. Your father was with them."

"That's impossible. My . . . the Spirit-Hunter's gone. He left the city."

"It was him. He stood head and shoulders above the guards." She refused to look at him, just stared at the stone flags while her fingers creased her gown and smoothed it again. "They were headed toward the slave compound."

All he could do was shake his head.

"I couldn't come before. I only just finished in the kitchen. I wasn't even sure if I should tell you. But . . . he's your father. And I thought you should know."

Finally, he managed to move, but as he pushed past Hircha, she grabbed his arm. "What are you going to do?"

"I have to go to him!"

"You'll only make things worse."

"Then I'll find Malaq."

"Only the queen can help him now."

"Then I'll go to her!"

"Xevhan probably ran to her while the blood from this morning's sacrifice was still warm." Hircha grimaced. "Unless he waited until he was finished with the blind girl."

The thought of what Xevhan might have done to the little singer only fueled his bloodl.u.s.t. His mouth filled with saliva and he swallowed hard, refusing to give in to the overwhelming urge to find Xevhan and kill him.

He shook off Hircha and began pacing Malaq's chamber. He had to do something. He couldn't just wait here while they tortured his father to get the truth from him. Then he saw the snake earring, lying on the table. He scooped it up and was heading toward the doorway when Hircha said, "If you're looking for me, I can save you a hot, dusty trip."

It took him a moment to realize it wasn't Hircha's voice, another to turn and discover the apparition, lounging in the doorway of the garden. Part of his mind registered her strange appearance; the other was trying to imagine how she had scaled the wall to Malaq's garden in her long robe.

"We can talk more privately outside."

He exchanged a quick look with Hircha before following her.

They found her lolling on the bench at the far end of the garden. "In a few moments, the queen's guards will arrive to take you to the adder pit, so I fear we must dispense with pleasantries. I am the Supplicant of the G.o.d with Two Faces. How I got here is unimportant. Your father will be sacrificed at dawn tomorrow on the altar of Zhe. And if you're going to faint, I suggest you put your head between your knees and breathe slowly."

The scorn in her voice brought his head up. "I'm not going to faint."

"I'm relieved."

"And I was was coming to you. You gave my father this. He gave it to me." coming to you. You gave my father this. He gave it to me."

"I'm aware of the chain of events."

"Can you help him?"

"I've already given Darak the help he requires."

Keirith stumbled toward her and went down on his knees.

"First your father, now you. It's obviously a day for begging. To save time-and your knees-let us consider your anguished pleas completed. I refuse."

"But . . . he's going to die. You can't let that happen."

"I can. But it would mean breaking a promise, which I am loath to do. Besides, I'm fond of Darak."

"How do you-?"

"I have neither the time nor the inclination to enlighten you as to my relationship with your father. Nor do I have the patience to listen to you plead. It seems to me you do very little else. 'Supplicant, help my father.' 'Malaq, help my father.' When are you you going to help him?" going to help him?"

Keirith got to his feet, anger overcoming his shock. "I tried to help him!"

"Oh, yes. Urkiat. That did show initiative. Now it's time to show a bit more. For years, you've complained about being in your father's shadow. Here's a marvelous opportunity to step out of it." Her expression grew stern. "You have power, Keirith. Far more than your father possessed when he destroyed Morgath. Why don't you use it?"

"How?"

"That, I'm afraid, you'll have to figure out for yourself." She smiled brightly. "It's been lovely meeting you. I hope we shall see each other again, but that's rather difficult to predict at the moment. Oh, and Hircha. You showed initiative in bringing Keirith the news of his father's arrest. That sort of behavior will serve you far better than limping about, nursing your resentment."

The draperies billowed as she stepped into the chamber. In the time it took him to rip them aside, she had vanished; there was no possible way she could have reached the doorway so quickly.

Hircha flicked her forefinger against her thumb three times, then smacked her palms together four times in the Zherosi sign to banish evil.

Forget about how she comes and goes. Think about what she said.

He must use his power. But how? To convince the queen to be merciful? To kill Xevhan before he could sacrifice his father?

Think, Keirith, think.

He'd never be able to sway the queen. If he killed Xevhan, another priest would simply take his place as Zheron. Short of killing every guard in the slave compound, he wouldn't be able to free his father. And regardless of the Supplicant's mockery, he doubted his power alone could save him.

"Hircha? Will you help me?"

"I . . . what do you want me to do?"

"Go to the place Xevhan held the entertainment. If the players aren't there, see if you can find them."

"They could be anywhere in the city!"

"I know!" Quickly, he lowered his voice. "Just try. Find the little man. The fair-haired one who sang with my father. He might help."

"Do what?"