forty #3
“I am not afraid of death. I looked it in the eyes many years ago, and never feared it again. Now that I know the Void will bring me Home for my sacrifice, I have even less to fear.”
“This is not necessary.”
When Olma’s hands shook again, it was in frustration. “I beg of you, make it swift. A wound in the head is fast and will be all the proof you need. Tell Sulim to be your witness. I know you two are close.”
“And what would I tell them? Why would I kill you? Nobody would believe you stupid enough to attack me for no reason.”
“It doesn’t matter. As long as you have proof that you killed the chief, you are the rightful heir to our bloody legacy. Nobody would deny your authority.”
“And I’m telling you, this isn’t necessary. Get up.”
Olma dropped her weapon onto the floor and pushed herself up with both hands.
When her fiery gaze lit Mira’s countenance ablaze, the two women from different backgrounds, different planets, different experiences played a silent tête-à-tête that dared Mira to make the first move. She would win. There was no doubt.
“I will not stand in your way,” Olma said through clenched teeth. “The High Priestess did not—”
She was interrupted by someone behind Mira. Neither turned as Sulim approached with a harried step and sleep in her voice. She had stayed the rest of the night with Mira, and surely, this was not what she expected to see when she got up and came down the stairs.
“What’s happening?” Sulim stood slightly behind Mira, catching sight of the firearm on the floor between her and Olma. “I’m sorry, who brought the gun to the sorcery fight?”
Her haggard quip was lost on both Mira and Olma. “Sulim,” the chief carefully said as she kept her eyes locked on Mira, “I need you to witness this. When I am dead, you must ensure that all of Second Tribe knows that Mira is the one who killed me.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Her Holiness showed me last night.” Still, Olma did not look away from Mira, who slowly understood what she must do. “The only way forward through the trials to come to Cerilyn is with Her daughter at the helm of this cursed ship. Our julah priestess must become chief of Second Tribe.”
For once, Sulim was stunned speechless. As her hand touched her lips, she said, “So, you know?”
She must have meant about Mira’s lineage, something kept from even the chief of Second Tribe.
“I was shown many things while I was unconscious,” Olma said, finally averting her gaze and letting Mira breathe a little.
“Please. Let me dedicate myself to this cause, even with my death. It’s the only way. You know this, Sulim. You are not bound to protect me here. I only ask that I die before the High Priestess.”
“I keep telling you that it’s not necessary!”
Mira huffed with both hands on her hips.
She had mostly accepted that Olma wasn’t going to attack her—and even if she did, Mira knew plenty of ways to sorcerically incapacitate her, so death was not on the menu.
“I’ve already inherited the right to become chief by regicide. I just never claimed my handiwork.”
Sulim remained silent beside her. Olma slightly cocked her head in confusion. “Is that so?” she carefully asked.
“Yes. Your former chief, Ayna Aiya—your coroner declared she died of a heart attack brought on by her years of incessant drug usage, but that was me. I performed a ritual from the Old Ways, as requested by a number of her victims. They even offered to pay me.”
“Is that so?” That was directed to Sulim, whose hand had moved down to her chest. “Sulim, do you know about this?”
“I have heard of it,” Sulim said after clearing her throat, “but was not privy to that knowledge when it happened. The chief perished while I was still a recruit.”
“Who paid you this money to murder Ayna Aiya, and how did you do it?”
Gone was the insistence that she die. Instead, Olma crossed her arms and interrogated Mira as a chief looking for answers would.
“My point of contact was Giselle. I trust that she’s still around?”
“Yes. Giselle is one of my bodyguards.”
“There were others, but I do not know all of their names, probably to keep them safe. But ask your Giselle as my witness. As for the method? I procured the ingredients I needed, both from my own Temple stores and from what Giselle and the others could nick from the fortress’s storeroom.
It takes a lot of numbroot to perform an assassination ritual.”
“And then what? Did you kill her from afar?”
“You can do it from anywhere in the universe. But I did it here, in this Temple. I had my results the next morning when the message erupted in the village that the chief was dead in her bed.” She snorted in Olma’s direction. “Long live the chief?”
“So, you’re saying that you killed Ayna Aiya and are the rightful chief by regicide? Not me?”
“I did indeed kill Chief Ayna Aiya, and did not bother to claim my handiwork. I did it as a favor to victims of abuse. I used the money they collected to invest back into the town here by way of medications, food, and other supplies commonly needed.”
“Well, I’ll fucking be. I was never the rightful chief, huh?”
“I had no intention of becoming chief. It doesn’t quite fit the julah lifestyle, you know.”
“There has never been a full julah chief in the history of Cerilyn,” Sulim said. “Hybrids, yes, but not full-blown julah.”
“Because it’s beyond foolish. Not only is it foolish for Cerilyn, since that would mean generations of the same dictator, but it would cut us off from Yahzenian society forever.”
Mira sighed. “Even if I abdicated when this was over, I could never return to my estate. I might actually be excommunicated from Yahzen entirely, like my father. It certainly wouldn’t help House Dunsman’s reputation for their scion to take up with barbarians beyond my priestly position.”
She would already cause quite a stir when she attempted to take Sulim back with her at the end of this tenure.
“Your mother was quite adamant in my dream,” Olma continued. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen a sign.”
“Oh, I have. You’re here, aren’t you?”
Olma was a bit caught off guard by that, but she retained the powerful stance that marked her as the chief, despite her short height and forgettable face.
I bet that made her a good mercenary back in her day.
Sulim made it clear that most of the best mercenaries were women and “unassuming” men who could use their appearance to get into places the brawny types could not.
“I’m paid a lot of money to dress up feminine and infiltrate places,” Sulim had once explained to her lover.
“I’ve got a wig and a dress for every occasion across the Federation.”
She had even posed as a lost pregnant woman to get inside the headquarters of the Federation’s healthcare system to steal the information of one distraught and demeaned patient who was being denied care after falling through the cracks.
For while Federation healthcare was standardized, it was standardized for billions of citizens.
Even Mira saw the potential issues in that.
“I have had many visits from people past and present,” Mira explained.
“I have seen things for myself. I have other julah in my cohort right now who have been sent by my mother. You are correct in that something is coming, and many of us have inadvertently been selected for greatness.
Perhaps it is no coincidence that I was made the priestess of this Temple as punishment for my father’s sins. After all, my soulmate was here. Why shouldn’t I be destined to become chief of Second Tribe?”
“Mira—”
She interrupted Sulim’s worried tone. “Of course, I need a moment to think about it. This is not something I approach lightly. Furthermore, I need to know what the proper course to becoming chief would be. That, you know, does not require further murder.”
“I understand.” Olma paused, glancing toward the altar. “Let me research this and get back to you. All of this is highly… unprecedented.”
“Oh, please don’t forget the gun before you leave. Not exactly fitting for a Temple. The only reason I didn’t rip your ear off when you entered was because I knew you were the chief and didn’t want trouble. Instead, you brought plenty of other trouble for me.”
“My apologies.”
“So, go do your research.”
Olma bent to pick up her firearm, reholstered it, and backed away before turning completely around and heading out the door. The fact she came here without a bodyguard… It showed her intention to die today.
“Mira.” Sulim stepped in front of her, replacing the line of sight that had singled out Olma on her way out of the Temple. “Think about what you’re contemplating. You’re a julah. You’re a priestess!”
“Indeed. I am both.” Mira sighed. “And while I cannot change being a julah, let alone my parents’ daughter, being a priestess is rarely a permanent thing. I did not lie when I said I need to think on this. But the way things are going…”
She thought on her recent adventure fusing two of her lives, the state of the world, the callings her other loved ones experienced…
even Sulim had been visited by the High Priestess the night before.
My mother has been busy. And while the High Priestess was presumed to be omniscient and omnipotent, Mira knew that whatever entity occupied the Void now had once been mortal.
Maybe more than once, according to Rahara.
I wish I could ask her everything burning on my mind right now. Unfortunately, Rahara showed up when necessary, and never more than that. Assuming she was the mortal entity crossing both time and space… well, Mira couldn’t blame her. She might be more powerful than my father.
Her father…
Mira sucked in her cheeks. The knowledge that her father was probably coming to this place, to kill the people she had vowed to protect as a priestess, only steeled her resolve to do what she knew must be done.
Make history. For some reason, knowing what lay before her did not frighten her at all. Losing everything, including the mortal world, was far more terrifying.