43. Chapter 39
Chapter 39
Raven
“ P roof of Devotion?” Caelan’s tone was skeptical. We were back in the Palace of the Suns and I’d just asked Caelan’s permission to visit the temple to perform one of the sacred rituals. I would seek out a priest of the temple and confess my sins.
“Yes.”
“What do you have to confess?”
“A great deal, I should think. Don’t you?”
Caelan glared. “Yet somehow, I think you will repent none of the lies and none of the treason. What’s left?”
I lowered my eyes. “A lot.”
He scoffed. “Everything you do is to advance some secret agenda. You probably think you can get Devan on your side. But it will achieve nothing.”
“If you prefer, I will confess to another priest.”
“I’d prefer you confess to me.”
I remained silent. He hadn’t said no yet.
Caelan sighed. “Fine. Go. Baris will accompany you, along with two additional men. They will take you to the temple and then directly back to your chamber. I’m needed in the yards.”
I bowed my head deeply. “Thank you, my prince.” Humbleness was definitely the way to go right now.
Caelan glared at me some more, suspicious of my obedience and my request, but he could find nothing obviously objectionable and turned away.
My heart fluttered as I was escorted to the temple. I feared I’d have another out-of-body experience like the last time I was there. But stronger than my fear was my anger at Farad's deliberate exposure of my identity. This was my first opportunity to confront him.
First Priest Devan was in the main temple chamber when Baris and I entered. His face lit into a smile, though there was a cruel underpinning in it that hadn’t been there before he knew my name. If he ever got his way, he’d hurt me.
He shuffled quickly down the aisle to greet me. “Raven Rosa, as I live and breathe. And without your master. This is a surprise.”
I bowed my head humbly. “I’ve come to provide Proof of Devotion.” I kept my eyes low, putting on the same humble show for him as I had for Caelan.
The predatory smile grew. His arm swept to indicate a small door. “Come to my office.”
I lowered my bow. “I’m sorry, First Priest. My master has requested I give my Proof of Devotion to another high priest.” Lucky for me, Farad was the only one currently in the capital.
Devan's eyes flashed, making him look more like his brother than usual. “Really?” he said stiffly. “And why is that?”
“I could not speak to my master’s motives,” I said humbly.
If he knew me at all, he would scoff. But he didn’t. He had no reason to doubt me or to deny Caelan his request. He forced a smile. “I’ll be sure to speak to him about it, then.”
It was a veiled threat. If I was lying, Caelan would hear about it. Luckily, I wasn’t lying.
“Of course.” I waited.
Devan cleared his throat. His cheeks were pink; he felt humiliated. “I will retrieve a suitable priest,” he said stiffly. He indicated the wall, where tiny chambers stood ready to receive me. They looked like wooden dressers; I half-expected to open the door and find it stocked with rich silks. “You may wait in there.”
“Thank you.” I entered a booth and closed the door. It was dark and empty of decoration. I took one of the two seats and waited.
The booth would be sound-proof, though I was sure Devan had some way of observing whatever occurred in here. Even the sacred Proof of Devotion did not allow for the secure sharing of secrets, not in a court like this where information meant power. In fact, the very ritual I took advantage of existed as a way to ensure the temple—and thus, the crown—knew every important secret and bit of gossip. I just had to hope that Farad would know how to ensure that what we spoke of today remained quiet.
The door opened and closed again. I thought Farad might bring a torch, but he left us in darkness. “Tell me your sins, my child,” he said.
“I come to freely speak of the wickedness inside me.” Silly, ritual words. The religion of Vaharilar cared nothing for wickedness. Hatred lay at the heart of their devotion.
“Speak, child.”
So we were safe. There were no listening ears. Still, I kept my voice as quiet as I could.
“You betrayed me.”
“Lady Kassimi and I exercised our judgment in support of higher causes than your personal dignity.”
“And how exactly does me being outed to Caelan and his father’s entire court serve those interests?” I spat the words, all my fury pouring out. The sensation of exposure I’d experienced at that table was like nothing I’d ever felt before. I still felt nauseous whenever I thought about it.
Farad clicked his tongue, calm and patronizing. “Have you even tried to think it through? You knew Caelan was an altayr, though you didn't tell me." There was an edge to the accusation. "That gave you power over him that could have been used to create contention within the emperor's family. But when he revealed his power and his father was pleased, the advantage was lost. The field had to be redrawn."
“It didn't work. His father is more pleased with him than ever. The only disadvantaged one is me.”
“Too soon to say."
I took a deep breath and let it out. If I allowed myself to be too emotional, Farad would not take me seriously. “He distrusts me completely now; he hates me. I have no power in this position.”
“A position you put yourself in, remember. Had you secured a more advantageous one for yourself, I doubt very much that Lady Kassimi would have suggested we take matters into our own hands.”
Was he trying to blame Lusa? I'd never figured out which of them was in charge, but it had been clear to me at the dinner that they were both consenting parties in my betrayal, and that was all I needed to know.
Farad’s voice softened. “Think outside yourself, Raven. Word that you are alive, and on the end of a Slayer’s leash, is already spreading. Those who respect your father’s memory will be outraged. The Slayers only invite discord by flaunting you as their prize. They believe you represent their victory but you represent the people’s hope. We have made you a visible symbol of the living rebellion, at last.”
A symbol, like the mark on my back. Was that all I ever was to them? Did they tell me they were training me as a spy just to appease me? A sinking feeling overcame me. I'd thought I was navigating my own course, but Lusa and Farad had ensured that I ended up right where I could do the most good for their cause. Not as an active participant, but as a living martyr.
"I don't want to be a figurehead." It was hard to keep my voice quiet. "I want to make a real difference."
"I want that too, Raven, but you decided to abandon the mission I gave you and you failed. You learned nothing of value about Caelan or his family. Frankly, from what Lusa passed on, I’d say Caelan is pulling your strings more than you’re pulling his.”
“He is not!”
“It’s in your nature,” Farad said. His voice was back to being sneering and cold. I remembered the tone vividly from my youth. Once, it made me shrink. But I resented it too much now. I sat up taller.
“You are your mother’s daughter. Don’t forget—I know all about that part of you, Raven. Don’t let it ruin you.”
I tried to speak but denial lodged in my throat. “I have control of it. I was the one in control before he found out the truth.”
Farad was silent a long moment. “The truth. Do you want to know the truth? The truth is that your father was Emperor Calathan’s best friend. Anything you could possibly find out from Caelan, your father knew, and more. And still, he failed to kill them. It’s not information his memory requires of you, Raven. The truth is that you’re most useful as a figurehead. But you don't truly care about being of use. You're selfish. You want to wet your blade. To secure your own personal vengeance. So fine. Kill Caelan. Kill him at the earliest opportunity. That’s what your father would have wanted you to do.”
My heart skipped a beat and my mind reacted with rejection. But rejection of what? His cruel assessment of me? His statement about what my father would have wanted? Or his directive to kill Caelan?
“Caelan is just a second son. Surely, his father—”
“No.” Farad’s voice was fierce and clear, almost too loud. He lowered it. “I am going to tell you something I have never told you, Raven. In fact, few people know it, even inside the rebellion.”
“Does Lusa know?”
“No.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. My fingers shook and I squeezed them.
“Lord Rosa began his rebellion with a single goal: to kill Caelan Havard.”
I couldn’t have moved a muscle if I’d wanted to. “My—my father—”
“His rebellion was never about politics or economics. It was a tool to help him achieve his true aim: the death of the king’s second son.”
“Why?” I croaked. In the back of my mind, I wondered why I was so shocked and disturbed. Farad had always parsed out my father’s secrets like rare seeds, keeping me reliant on him for the next bit of knowledge I was desperate to taste. Why should I be so surprised he’d kept something as big as this a secret?
“Do you remember when I told you of The Tapestry Unweaving?"
"Yes. You said my father wanted to stop the Ravager from rising…"
"And his Rider from joining him," Farad finished. "But I did not have the prophecy to show you. Do you know why?"
"No," I whispered.
“The emperor had every copy destroyed to keep others from realizing what your father realized.”
“That Caelan—” I trailed off. I didn’t know the contents of the prophecy or how Caelan could possibly be related to them.
“That Caelan is destined to be the Ravager's Rider."
It was hard to breathe. The air of the booth was stifling; dragonstone surrounded me on every side. I closed my eyes to center myself, but green light poured from the crack in the floor, drowning out the thin ancient lines in the stone around me.
Do not fear destiny, the deep voice said in my mind. It could read my thoughts.
“No, no. When I went into Los, you said that Tanead might—”
Farad held up a hand. "I admit, I have not always trusted entirely in your father's interpretation. Or, it was your mother's interpretation, actually. She saw the signs in Caelan. She was a religious woman. Did you know that?”
I leaned towards his chair, eager to drink up anything he’d tell me about my parents. “No.”
“I met her only once, but it was this chance meeting that brought me the mission to which I’ve devoted the rest of my life. Very late in the rebellion, she came to my temple. I was a country priest then, nurturing a congregation of less than a hundred. She feared for her life, she told me, and came to the closest temple to offer Proof of Devotion before her probable death.
“On that day, she told me everything. She told me of her reading of The Tapestry Unweaving and her realization that it was soon to come about. She told her husband, of course, who sought to overthrow the emperor. He built up a whole story around his motivations—economics and justice and rights for the people and all that—but his true purpose was to kill Caelan Havard and deprive the Ravager of his greatest ally.
“Almost nobody knew. I became one of the few that day. After she left, her guards burnt my temple. They meant to kill me, but I escaped. When I heard her cause was lost, I vowed to take it up myself and devote my life to preventing the rise of the Ravager. That is why I found you, Raven. So that you could help me. Do you still want to help me?”
“Yes,” I whispered. I felt drunk on the story about my parents. He’d never offered me so much at once. His betrayal had been overshadowed by the shocking intensity of purpose contained in his story. But something still bothered me.
"Why didn't you believe before that Caelan was the Rider? Why do you now?"
Farad pursed his lips and spoke in the stilted voice of a man who doesn't like to admit his failings. "Even your father was never completely sure. The prophecy speaks of a child who will 'fly' to the Ravager. It names certain attributes of this child, attributes that belong to Caelan Havard. But still, nothing is ever certain when it comes to seers and their damned musings about the future. Your father never allied with the demons in case he was wrong and the flyer referred to one of them. But he was sure enough to rise against the emperor. And since Caelan revealed his altaya at the Hunt, I am, too."
So many more questions burned in my throat, wanting to flow up like bile. "What attributes—"
"You suddenly need proof to trust in your father's judgment—in my judgment? You didn't before. What's changed, Raven? I wonder what's changed." Farad's mocking tone, which snapped with electric energy, said he knew just what had changed. It always came back to my nature, for him. My one essential weakness.
I said nothing.
Farad sighed and softened. "I'll be honest with you, Raven," he said finally. "Caelan Havard is still alive because I was not sure your parents were right. I sent you into Los to shadow Tanead because I thought he might be the prophesied child. "But your report on Tajawl and recent events with Caelan have convinced me that your father was right. Kill Caelan Havard and you prevent the end of the world. There is nothing you could do to make your father prouder. Will you do it?"
“I'd do anything for that,” I said, and I meant it. Though as the words left my mouth, a vision of Caelan’s face drifted across my mind and I felt a stab of guilt. “If I could just see a copy of the prophecy—"
“I don’t have one. You’ll have to trust my word, little bird. You can do that, can’t you?” Now his voice was cajoling, like thick syrup. I leaned into his approval. Habit, after so long.
“Of course,” I whispered.
“Good. Then swear your commitment as I swore to your mother.”
Did I hesitate just a moment? No. It couldn’t be. “Today I vow to prevent the unweaving of the world by any means necessary, as my father sought to before me.”
“Good girl,” Farad said. “Now. Do you have anything else to confess today, my child?”
I shook my head and swallowed back the tears that had gathered in my throat.
“Go safe into the world. And may the Father be with you.”
I emerged to find Amon lounging against a nearby wall. My heart skipped a beat. Had he heard anything? Surely not.
“Come to Prove your Devotion?” he drawled.
“Yes, my prince.” I was careful to keep my tone neutral. Respectful, but not inviting.
“I’m surprised my brother allows it. He likes his secrets so much.”
I cast my eyes downward. “I don’t know his secrets, my prince, and so I could not tell them.”
“And what about your own?”
I glanced up to find Amon’s eyes trained on me, piercing and sharp. I met his gaze with open eyes, speaking a lie that was almost the truth—my favorite kind. “I was thoroughly outed, I’m afraid. I have little left to hide.”
He leaned in and whispered, as if telling a secret. “A woman always has something. Sometime, if you want, I could make you tell me.” He winked.
A door creaked and I used it as an excuse to look away. Farad shuffled towards us in his green robe. “My prince, an honor. How may I serve you?”
"I've come to Prove my Devotion," Amon said, the words a mocking duplication of mine. But Farad led him to the booth as if he didn't know it.
My eyes slid to the crack in the floor. The green light had spread since the funeral. Tendrils curled at the edges like fingers reaching for the world beyond.
Come home. The voice whispered its deep words. Silky and alluring, the words contained more than sounds. They offered images of twisting underworld tunnels. Rightness and wholeness would be the reward for my obedience, they promised.
But my fear gripped me tight, screaming its denial.
I closed my heart.
I took a step away.
I have no home, I answered.