Forged In Flame (In Her Name: The First Empress, Book 2) (6 page)

“I will take you up there later,” Ayan-Dar told her, following her gaze. “You will never see a more beautiful sunset anywhere upon the world.”

She looked up at him, realizing that she had stopped walking again. “I would like that very much, my priest.” 

“Come. We are almost there, and we must not keep our hostess waiting.”

Keel-Tath nodded, following after him.

Opposite the promenade was a small walled city within the city, almost a miniature version of Ku’ar-Amir. 

Keel-Tath moved closer to Ayan-Dar and lowered her voice. “What is that?” She nodded at the fortress, which she knew from the Books of Time would have qualified as a city of modest size in many places in the world.

“That is the keep,” the First answered. “If the outer walls are breached, that is the final line of defense. It also serves as the living quarters for the city’s mistress. And here,” she gestured ahead of them, “is the great hall, where you will dine with Li’an-Salir.”

The building was enormous, larger even than the coliseum at the temple where those entering the priesthood were ordained. But unlike the coliseum, which was a ponderous domed structure, the great hall was made of stone and wood, metal and glass. It was a study in graceful curves and spires, at once delicate and powerful. It dawned on her that it was a reflection of the sea, of wind and wave, the creatures that dwelled in the deep, and the great ships that sailed from this harbor to distant shores.

It was at that moment that she wondered what Keel-A’ar must have looked like before it had been destroyed, before the people who lived there were burned alive or hunted down like meat animals. 

Clenching her fists, trying to stifle a roaring surge of hatred toward the Dark Queen, she vowed that she would someday rebuild it and make it a thing of beauty that would last for ages to come.

“Are you well, child?” Ayan-Dar was looking at her, an expression of concern on his face. 

She nodded, realizing that he must have sensed her emotions. She had to control herself better. “I am fine, my priest.”

“This way.” After watching the exchange in silence, the First led them through the doors, nearly as tall and wide as the city’s entry gate, to the great hall.

“Oh.” The hall could have easily fit thousands, perhaps even tens of thousands, without anyone feeling crowded. The floor was a giant mosaic of tiny tiles, and when Keel-Tath looked down as she walked, she felt as if she was flying above the sea. The ceiling, high above, was supported by pillars with ornate carvings of serpents, mouths agape, spiraling upward. And on the ceiling itself was another giant mural of the sky. The clouds in the mural moved, and she wondered if it was a trick of the eye as she walked, or perhaps it was the reflection of the sun through the slender windows that rose from floor to ceiling at close intervals all the way around.

At the far end of the hall was an entrance to a small chamber.
Small
was a relative term, of course. This room, she saw, was perhaps only as large as one of the barracks at the temple where a full hundred disciples lived. She had not had a good look at the walls in the main hall, for they were so far from the center she couldn’t see them in detail. But here she could see that they were covered in mosaics made of precious metals, telling of the rise and fall of ancient civilizations, perhaps dating back to the First Age.

“My mistress,” the First said formally as they approached a large table around which stood eight warriors and robed ones, in addition to Li’an-Salir, who stood at the head of the table. 

“Warrior priest Ayan-Dar of the Desh-Ka, and his disciple Keel-Tath.” She bowed her head and saluted.

Li’an-Salir gestured to the two chairs on her left. “Ayan-Dar, please do me the honor of sitting by my side. Keel-Tath, you may sit next to your priest.”

Ayan-Dar bowed his head and saluted, and Keel-Tath followed his lead. He moved to the chair beside Li’an-Salir, and Keel-Tath stood at the table on his left, beside a tall, slender robed male wearing the color of the keepers of the Books of Time. The keeper eyed her with open curiosity, as did the others around the table. 

With a nod, Li’an-Salir sat down in her chair, and the others followed suit.

CHAPTER FIVE

Council Of War

Sitting in the chair felt awkward to Keel-Tath. She had heard of such customs, of course, but the temple did not use chairs. The disciples sat or knelt on animal hides during their meals, and the tables were much smaller.

“I thank you for your hospitality, mistress of Ku’ar-Amir,” Ayan-Dar said. “But I was not expecting to be invited to a council of war.”

“Do not act surprised, old friend,” Li’an-Salir answered. “You surely know that any gathering such as this in any city not already held in thrall by Syr-Nagath constitutes a council of war, in fact if not in name. The business of war is in our blood, but the war she wages across the world now is different from any other.” She paused, looking at Keel-Tath as a host of robed ones brought food and drink to the table. “But before we attend to that, I wanted to ask if all is well with your disciple and her coming of age.”

Ayan-Dar turned to Keel-Tath, and with a raised eyebrow and nod of the head prompted her to answer.

“Yes, mistress. The healer said that all is well. The fire in my blood is gone, and I have regained my strength. Things still taste and smell strange to me, but she said that would soon pass.” 

“Indeed it will.” Li’an-Salir looked thoughtful. “Did anything strange happen when the healer examined you?”

Keel-Tath blinked, not sure how to answer. “Not that I am aware, mistress.” She felt vaguely uncomfortable under Li’an-Salir’s gaze, and noticed that everyone else was staring at her, as well.

Leaning forward slightly, Ayan-Dar asked, “Is there a point to your question, mistress? And is this a topic to be discussed before your council?”

“I am simply curious. After examining your disciple, the healer made a rather interesting discovery: her healing gel bonded to Keel-Tath.”

“That is impossible,” Ayan-Dar blurted, looking down at his white-haired disciple, his eye open wide in amazement.

“So it is said, but it is true nonetheless.”

“What…what does this mean?” Keel-Tath looked to her priest, wondering if she was in some kind of trouble.

“What we call the healing gel,” a female in the white robe of the healer caste said in a soft voice that cut through the silence, “is actually a symbiont, a living organism that bonds to a healer very early in the healer’s life. The symbionts are able to share information with one another through touch about any creatures they have ever been in contact with, and are also able to share that information with the healers, who in turn can guide the gel to effect repairs to the body.”

Keel-Tath nodded. All this, she knew. Everyone did. None among their race, even the honorless ones, suffered from disease or injury unless they chose to do so. Warriors cherished their battle scars, but there was no harm that could be done to the body, short of destroying the brain, that the healers could not repair like new. 

The healer leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Keel-Tath. “The bond between healer and symbiont is for life, child. When a healer dies, the symbiont passes to a new healer, preserving the knowledge that was gained. And during a healer’s life, that symbiont is merged with many others to pool and share knowledge. Some of the symbionts — or, rather, the knowledge they contain — date back to the dawn of the First Age. They represent the most complete record of our species, far more so than even the Books of Time.”

Keel-Tath shook her head. “I still do not understand.”

“When the healing gel touched you,” the healer said, “did you sense anything?”

“Well, perhaps.” Keel-Tath fought to concentrate, to recall the sensations she’d felt when she was with the healer. “I felt strange when she put the healing gel on my belly. As it worked its way into my flesh, I could…see things. A jumble of images that I did not understand. I thought it was just another part of the transition to womanhood.”

Li’an-Salir asked, “Did those images fade away once the symbiont was taken back by the healer?”

“Yes. Well, mostly.” She was still plagued by occasional bizarre flashes in her brain, like random lightning. “What does this mean?”

“It means, child,” said the keeper of the Books of Time beside her, “that you are an impossibility, beyond even the uniqueness of your hair and talons. No symbiont has ever bonded to one of the non-healer castes in all of history until now.”

“The healers are the first ones chosen from the creche, taken as infants and bonded with the symbionts,” the healer went on. “The symbionts meld with them, in a way, and teach them to understand how to communicate. They never, ever break their bond until the healer dies. Until now.”

Li’an-Salir nodded. “Do not be distraught, Keel-Tath. We do not hold you responsible for what happened. Like much in life, it is a mixture of wonder and tragedy.”

Keel-Tath felt a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “What do you mean, mistress?”

“She means,” Ayan-Dar said quietly, “that the healer who examined you died not long after you left her. She could not survive the breaking of the bond with the symbiont.”

Across the table, the elder healer nodded, a trace of the black mourning marks under her eyes.

Aghast, Keel-Tath stood and reached for the small dagger she kept on her belt, just behind the scabbard of her sword.

Ayan-Dar’s hand gripped hers before she could draw it. “No, child!”

“I cannot make amends for such a thing,” Keel-Tath cried, horrified that she had been responsible for the death of a healer. One of the most basic tenets of the Way held by all the orders, with the possible exception of Ka’i-Nur, was to protect the robed ones. And among those, the healers were the most precious of all, for they were the fewest and were the foundation of the survival of their species. To kill a healer, or to let one die without fighting to save her, was to commit a terrible atrocity. Only the killing of children was worse. Keel-Tath could not live with such a stain on her honor. She struggled to draw the dagger, but Ayan-Dar’s hand held hers in a steel grip.

“We do not ask you to.” Li’an-Salir came to stand behind Keel-Tath’s chair. Taking her by the shoulders, the city’s mistress gently forced her to sit back down. “You are an innocent in this, child. No one, not one of us could have foreseen that such a thing could happen.” Leaning down, she turned Keel-Tath’s face toward hers. “I well understand why you feel as you do. Your sense of honor runs deep; Ayan-Dar would have no less from any he would call his disciple. But you must learn that honor requires more than sacrifice. Sometimes it demands something far more terrible: forgiveness, even for yourself.”

With the black of the mourning marks streaming down the skin of her cheeks, Keel-Tath nodded understanding. She knew she would never forgive herself, that the healer’s death would always be a stain on her soul. But she would honor Ayan-Dar and Li’an-Salir’s wishes. “Yes, mistress.”

“Good.” She caressed Keel-Tath’s cheek. “We will speak no more of this.” Li’an-Salir returned to her seat.

 Ayan-Dar said, “You promise me you won’t do anything foolish when I let go your hand?”

“Yes, my priest.”

“Very well, child.” He released her. Leaning closer, he added softly, “Heed her words. She had to say something like that to me once, a very long time ago. A very wise mistress is Li’an-Salir.” He handed her a mug. “Drink this. It was made special for you, for the time your body is going through.”

Her mind still numb, Keel-Tath accepted the mug and put it to her lips. The drink had a mild sweet taste and warmed her stomach. After a moment, she began to relax. 

As Li’an-Salir and the others began to eat, Keel-Tath sipped her drink. She had no appetite now, and was content to listen to the discussion of the elders, which immediately turned to the Dark Queen.

“I noticed when we entered the city,” Ayan-Dar said as he began to shred his meat with his talons, “that you maintain an unusually heavy guard. Do you fear an attack so soon? Syr-Nagath has yet to complete her conquest of Uhr-Gol.”

Li’an-Salir nodded as she finished swallowing a piece of fruit. “They will only hold out another few weeks at most, and I do not trust Syr-Nagath to be predictable. There is nothing to prevent her from opening a second front here while she finishes off what resistance remains on Uhr-Gol. She certainly has enough warriors to do so. Regardless, she will not command my honor or my sword.”

“I would not dissuade you from being prepared, but I doubt the Dark Queen will strike here before she has consolidated her gains. To open a second front would be a potential risk that I doubt she will take. She could, I grant you, and in previous wars we have seen ambitious leaders do such things. But those were wars of honor, where advantage was often conferred upon the enemy, and when cities were not burned to the ground with every citizen trapped inside.” He glanced at Keel-Tath, and she could feel the echo of his sorrow. “Syr-Nagath is fighting this war solely to win, and she is not only gaining warriors, but builders, as well. Her capacity to build more complex machines and weapons is growing rapidly, which will make your defense even more difficult.” Li’an-Salir nodded unhappily. “My question is,” Ayan-Dar went on, “what then? Even if she unites the Homeworld and attacks the Settlements, what does she intend?”

“I do not know what she plans, but she is certainly ambitious, far more than any of us had believed. And advancing her technology by gathering more builders is not our only worry. Did you know that she met with the high priest of the Nyur-A’il?”

Ayan-Dar stopped in mid-chew to stare at Li’an-Salir, who cocked her head and said, “You did not know?”

“No,” he said, swallowing what was in his mouth and pushing away the golden plate laden with food. “I did not. I do not mean to insult you, mistress, but are you sure about this?”

“Yes. I received a visit from one of the younger priestesses three days ago, who came here on business related to the
kazha
that serves the city. Her sword was mine before she took up the collar, and she told me that the meeting took place a fortnight ago at Syr-Nagath’s encampment in Uhr-Gol.”