Chapter 21
Ainwir had always said never to pull a con masquerading as someone bigger than yourself. During our time together, he’d avoided the clergy and shied away from nobles close to the city lords. Now, I understood why.
I’d successfully convinced the clergy to consider the possibility I was the Maiden’s vessel, or chosen, or something to that effect. And now that I’d gotten us into the Temple’s good graces, I had no idea how to get us back out.
Standing before the tall mirror, I stared at my reflection aimlessly. Horrified by what he’d done, the Grand Cleric had ordered me to be stitched up, bathed, and properly dressed. Turning, I watched the thin fabric of my elegant white gown swirl across the floor.
Flopping onto the guest chamber’s soft bed, I watched the sun rise outside the window. The clergy had called an emergency conclave to discuss the implications of my situation. I was expected to attend.
A unit of temple guards had dragged Seraphim and the others away to be confined until the clergy came to a decision, but I had not been informed of their prison or condition. Worry gnawed at me, evidenced by the dwindling nails on my dominant hand.
Running my fingers nervously through my plaited hair, I stared at the ceiling. A mural of the goddess Psythos looked down on me, perhaps judging my sins. Short, cloud-like hair coiled around her shoulders and shrouded her body, encircling the hand she extended as if beckoning me to join her.
I frowned at her. How dare she gift her blessing to Ainwir? The more time I spent with Eleos, the more certain I became of my master’s hidden talents.
A sharp rap sounded on the door, and I sat up, calling for them to enter. Eleos quietly entered, dressed in clergy robes with a new blue scarf trailing down his back. Two temple guards accompanied him, their faces concealed by their helmets.
Shooting to my feet, I rushed to his side, but he held up a hand for silence.
“The conclave is underway,” he said calmly, taking my hand and gazing into my eyes, “Your presence has been requested.”
Glancing at the guards, I nodded quietly and followed him into the hall. Eleos grabbed a pale blue shawl from a hook inside the room before tapping the door closed behind us. His voice rang softly in my mind.
“Are you alright?” He wrapped the shawl around my shoulders.
“I thought you were detained with the others,” I thought back.
“I was,” Eleos thought. “But they realized something terrible: a heretic brought the Maiden’s vessel safely to Therapne. They offered me a chance at ‘redemption,’ so they could wash clean the scandal.”
So his crime had been heresy. I wanted to press, but Eleos claimed communicating like this was taxing, so I held my curiosity for when we could speak normally.
Temple knights flanked us as we walked, their pale blue surcoats brushing against the gray stone floors. Murals of the gods gazed down from the walls, as though observing our every step.
Callesis’ wicked grin and golden lyre caught my eye, and I thought of Percy. A knight’s son, receiving the art god’s blessing. The gods had a funny sense of humor.
Rounding a bend in the hall, Eleos guided me toward a grand archway leading into a vast chamber.
Lifting my head stiffly, I gave him a side-eyed glance. “I haven’t thought of a story that will save our hides.”
“Neither have I.” Eleos thought back. “But neither have the clergy. We’ll have to improvise.” He offered me a tiny half-smile. “Think we can play off each other well enough?”
I smiled back. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Holding my head high, I strode through the archway into the clergy’s meeting chamber.
A towering vaulted ceiling loomed above my head, and each staggering wall was carved with the likeness of one of the gods.
Several men and women in white robes and blue scarves gathered around an enormous round table centered by a basin of clear water.
Place me in a room of nobles and I could name most by their faces, dress, or dialect. But the clergy? Beyond the Grand Cleric, I had no idea who any of these people were, nor their rank in the hierarchy.
A shriveled woman tucked behind a cowl pointed at Eleos. “Why is that heretic here?”
The Grand Cleric gritted his teeth. “My son has been falsely slandered. His appearance here proves as much.”
My son? I gawped at Eleos briefly before remembering to stitch my mouth shut.
“Heireia,” Eleos said politely. “I believe you recall the reason for my excomm-”
“Who here doesn’t?” She spat. “You-”
“Have been proven right.” Eleos interrupted.
Retracting her hand, the Heireia fell silent.
I wanted to throw Eleos across the room. He swore up and down he wasn’t a priest, let alone an excommunicated one. Had he not kept everything secret from me, perhaps I wouldn’t feel so lost.
“I can hear your thoughts,” Eleos spoke in my mind. “You couldn’t pick me up, let alone toss me.”
That did it. I was going to kill him after this.
“Enough, Heireia,” The Grand Cleric rested his palms on the table, “We must decide our next course of action.”
“Are we certain of these claims?” A wizened man at the end of the table questioned. “There is no doubt of her connection to the Maiden?”
“I am certain.” The Grand Cleric said firmly. “I saw how the Bloodstone resonated with her. And I will not harm her again for your benefit.”
Snapping his mouth shut, the old man sat.
“But,” a younger woman said, “but wouldn’t her appearance mean. . .”
Silence blanketed the room until all voices rose at once. My eyes flashed between the clergy, trying to keep track of their argument.
“The end days cannot be upon us.” One barked. “The Maiden is supposed to appear only when the final city remains.”
“You heard what happened at the outpost.” Another argued. “We might have little time left.”
“What if it consumes us next?”
“The Bloodstone wards the Empty, it cannot.”
“They claim it’s now useless! This woman stole its blessing.”
“Why are we even considering such a ridiculous story? One spun by thieves, at that!”
I retreated into my mind, thinking. The last thing we needed was for them to stick me like a pig and create a new Bloodstone from my corpse. But convince them I was their goddess, and nothing good would follow.
“No.” Eleos agreed, reading my mind.
“You were the one who sought me,” I thought. “What do you think I am?”
“I think you bear no relation to any god.” Eleos thought. “Because they are mere figments conjured by desperate men.”
Blinking rapidly, I gazed at him in shock.
Shaking his head imperceptibly, he spoke in my mind, “Perhaps claim to be her envoy?”
“I come bearing a warning, before the end approaches?” I thought. “Stoke their egos, say Therapne will be the final city where the believers gather?”
“Can you sell that?”
“Haven’t you seen me act?”
Clearing his throat, Eleos addressed the room. “If I may?”
The arguing slowly died down until all eyes rested on the former heretic.
“She is right here, false or true. Why not ask her?” He looked down at me.
Putting on my best doe-eyed maiden impression, I met the expectant gazes. “I’ve felt the Maiden. I. . .I don’t know how to explain it. I think she sent me as a warning.”
“Nothing,” The Heireia articulated, “in the Scripture speaks of a warning.”
“Her message is not entirely clear,” I said, “It’s like she’s trying to reach me through the Empty itself, and. . . and it’s fighting her at every turn.”
“What do you mean?” The Grand Cleric pressed.
“I feel something.” I said, lacing lies with the truth, “When I gaze into the abyss. Her presence. And her grace allows me to step into the Empty and survive.”
One of the younger clerics rocketed from his chair. “You can survive the Empty?”
“Yes,” I said, raising my voice over the growing murmurs. “Just as the Bloodstone can.”
“I’ve seen it myself,” Eleos added.
The Heireia raised her chin. “Let’s test her, then. Shove her through and see if she disintegrates like all the rest.”
The younger priestess looked at her in horror. “But what if she speaks the truth? You’d dare disrespect the Maiden by doubting her envoy?”
“She doesn’t speak the truth.” The Heireia snapped.
Studying her wrinkles, I tried to remember what duties the Heireia attended. Did her word carry significant weight, or none?
An argument broke out again. Eleos glanced between everyone at the table, gaze falling on his father last. The Grand Cleric stared back, his steely gaze dropping from his son to me. As the cacophony grew to a boiling point, he slammed his fist on the table, shattering the noise into silence.
“Enough.” He shouted. “We have no reason to believe, or disbelieve her claims. They are to be treated with the delicacy they are due.” He stood straight, folding his hands before him.
“She will remain here, under scrutiny. We will double our prayers and seek a sign. Heireia, send word to our brethren to ask their counsel.”
“Of course,” The Heireia said.
“Wait,” I interjected. “Can you afford to waste time praying? There’s a great many refugees out there who need help.”
“A problem for another day,” the Grand Cleric dismissed. “This requires our full attention.”
“Indeed.” The Heireia agreed. “Assign a guard rotation to watch her at all hours. One of us should stay with her. Monitor her.”
“My son will.” The Grand Cleric said. “As penance for his crimes, he will serve the Maiden’s chosen, or suffer alongside her should her heresy be revealed.”
* * *
The cracked stone bench resting beneath the orchard looked like a gift from the gods after such an excruciating day. Falling onto it, I rested my chin in my hands and stared despondently across the garden.
Eleos sat beside me, eyeing the guards who watched us from across the path. “Do you see now why I dislike the clergy?”
“A little,” I admitted. “How long will it take for a ‘sign from the gods’ to arrive?”
“Forever,” Eleos said quietly. “There are no gods. No one to answer them.”
I sat back, staring at him. “But I thought-”