The Quartered Sea (23 page)

The boy's only response was to take back his empty flask, point toward the center of the temple, and then start back down the stairs.

Tul Altun and Ooman Xhai were waiting by a large, square block Benedikt took to be the altar. The light changed as he moved toward it and, glancing up, he saw that the roof ended where the altar began. Considering the violent storm he'd witnessed from the safety of his rooms, he figured some services had to be distinctly unpleasant. Although perhaps Tulpayotee, being a god of the sun, wasn't worshiped in the rain.

The tul, the loose hair rippling over his shoulders making him look younger, softer, pointed an inarguable finger. "Stand there." The command proved the implied softness to be illusion. "Sing as the sun rises."

The position put the altar between Benedikt and the sunrise.

No one seemed inclined to talk much after that, so Benedikt shifted his weight from foot to foot and wished that the whole thing was over. What if it didn't happen? What if he sang the sunrise and nothing manifested?

This is crazy. This isn't my god. I shouldn't be here.

Then he remembered that the tul had planned to use him right from the beginning, probably from the moment he'd been carried unconscious off the beach, long before he'd Sung the sunrise, and a failure this morning wouldn't change that. He was, by his own admission, merely waiting to finalize his plans.

That didn't actually make Benedikt feel much better.

The sounds of the night began to fade and, one by one, the stars were extinguished by the coming day.

Benedikt took a step away from the altar and felt, rather than saw, the tul turn toward him. He forced his lips apart. Bards do not hit wrong notes, the talent that makes them bards makes that impossible—Benedikt had been told that time after time while in training, but the opening notes he managed to squeeze out of his throat were as close as any bard had ever come.

"I doubt that would call pigs," the tul muttered.

Anger replacing the first flush of embarrassment, Benedikt locked his eyes on the distant flush of gold and filled his lungs. Sliding into the vocals—"
Oh, light of day we greet you
…"—he held nothing back, playing his voice like an instrument. His ribs expanded painfully far, his highs had never been so high, his lows so low, or his tones so ringingly clear.

On the edges of his vision, he saw Tul Altun and the priest turn to face the altar. Ooman Xhai looked beatific—in spite of his shaven head and tattoos; the tul looked predatory. They were both doomed to disappointment. Technically brilliant, the song was emotionally flat. The sun would rise, regardless, but Benedikt knew that the only thing he was evoking this morning was a sore throat.

And then, as the first low rays of light touched the altar, he felt something stir; not a god but the prayers and promises, the fears and joys of all the people who had come to this temple, who had stood where he stood and believed in something larger than themselves. Opening his arms to the light, he stopped showing off, gentled his voice, and added his Song to theirs.

A soft exclamation from the priest dropped his gaze to the altar. There, in the center, lay the golden translucent form of a newborn baby boy. A heartbeat later the infant opened his eyes and became a thousand tiny suns that spun off into the sky.

Benedikt let the last note fade, then, breathing heavily, he stumbled forward and lightly touched the altar's edge. The stone was warm.

When a hand closed around his arm, he jerked back, afraid he'd broken a temple taboo, but instead of censure he saw only awe on the face of Ooman Xhai. This close and in this light, the priest was older than Benedikt had first assumed, the tattoos had distracted from the deep lines around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. There were tears running down both his cheeks.

"Yesterday, the god could barely be seen, but now, when you sing in his house, he favors you greatly."

"That was the god? A baby?"

Ooman Xhai smiled. "Every morning Tulpayotee is born. Every evening he dies." He stepped away from the altar, pulling Benedikt with him and indicated that the bard should look down. The ages of the god marched around the sides of the stone in gilded bas relief; an infant at sunrise, a man in his prime at noon, an ancient at dusk. "There are small services for the priests at the beginning and end of each life, but the people come at noon when he is strong enough to carry their need. If there are enough people and a strong priest, or merely enough priests, we can evoke the god as a young man and he is able to intercede in the lives of his worshippers."

"Do you sing?"

"Not as you sing; we wrap our voices around the heartbeat of Tulpayotee and lay out the measure of the god. If
you
would sing at noon…"

"I'm sorry." To his surprise he was. In the light of what had just occurred, there could be no question of the priest's sincerity. "I only know songs for sunrise and sunset."

"It doesn't matter." The tul's voice cut them apart. "I don't need you to be a priest." As the Ooman bowed over the altar and began to pray, he pulled Benedikt aside. "The god seems to like whatever it is you're doing. Can you repeat this?"

"At sunrise, in a temple…" He could still faintly feel the touch of those other kigh."… yes, gracious one."

"Good. Is there anything else you can do that I should know about? Any other hidden talents?"
It's not wise to keep things hidden from your tul
. The meaning was so clear, he might as well have said the words aloud.

"Nothing. Water is of no use to me." He turned to face the altar and smiled. "But this, this is. Return to your room, Benedikt. The change is coming, and the Ooman and I have much to discuss. Oh, one more thing—this." His gesture included altar, temple, and sunrise. "No more singing to gods unless it's by my command."

Benedikt had already decided on his own that there'd be no more Singing the sunrise. Evoking a god, even an infant one, was just a little more than he felt capable of dealing with. He bowed and turned to go, but Ooman Xhai stopped him. Reaching up, he slipped a cool hand behind the taller man's neck and drew his head down until he could murmur, "Thank you," against Benedikt's forehead and seal the words softly with a gentle touch of his lips.

"Enough of that."

Doubting very much that the priest's blessing could stand against the tul's disapproval, Benedikt hurried away.

"And what was that in aid of?" Tul Altun demanded as the sound of Benedikt's footsteps descended the stairs. When the priest turned toward him, he noted that the old man seemed calmer, more sure of himself.

"I merely thank him, gracious one, for showing me the birthface of my god."

"This isn't about you and it isn't about Tulpayotee. It's about me." Pushing his loose hair impatiently back off his face, the tul walked out to the edge of the temple and stared out toward the coast where Benedikt had been found. "
I
have a chance to strengthen
my
position before the change."

"How, gracious one?"

"Think about it, Ooman; what would be the result if I took my warrior of Tulpayotee to court and had him invoke the god in the Great Temple?"

"You would attract the attention of the Tulparax, gracious one," the priest answered promptly. "The Sun in Splender would consider you blessed by Tulpayotee."

"So he would." One so blessed would gain the favor of the court, and those in favor of the court were those given powerful contracts and commissions. Until Benedikt, his future had been bleak at best, but now he could feel the possibilities stretching out before him. "Which is why we're going to court and you're presenting Benedikt in the Great Temple."

That got the priest's full attention. "I am, gracious one? Now?"

"No, not now. I have a few plans to put in motion before we leave—but soon. The Tulparax won't live much longer and if I don't strengthen my position before the change, my loving sister will quite happily destroy me."

"Gods are for the gullible."

Nodding thoughtfully, Benedikt reached across the low table and plucked a piece of steaming fish out of its leaf wrapping and popped it into his mouth. The tul seemed to think that, given his performance in the garden, there was no longer any need for him to remain hidden. Two giggling karjen had taken a long look at him when they brought in the food. Both were nicely rounded under their shifts and he'd taken a long look at them in return. One of them was missing the smallest finger on her left hand. "Then how do you tell me of the golden baby?" he asked mildly when he'd finished chewing.

Xhojee scowled, well aware he was being patronized. "How do I
explain
the golden baby? A trick of the light." He snorted. "A trick of the priests."

"For glory's sake, Benedikt, do
you
think you evoked Tulpayotee?"

"If I understand evoked, no. I give form to what was there."

Xhojee snorted again. "
That
is what it means to evoke."

Benedikt shrugged. Some day, he'd take Xhojee to the temple and show him, but he saw no need to waste his morning on an explanation that could only suffer through lack of common vocabulary. "The tul wants people to believe I am a warrior of Tulpayotee."

That drew Xhojee's attention off the fruit paste he was spreading. "He does? What people?"

"All people as far as I can tell."

Squirming backward far enough to miss the low table, Xhojee banged his forehead into the floor. "All hail great warrior! Tulpayotee blesses me with your presence."

"Stop it."

"I believe what my tul tells me to believe," Catching the grapes Benedikt threw, he moved back to the table and continued eating. "Did he say why?"

"The tul did not explain to me but he said, yesterday, '
There are those in this house who believe you have come from the court of Tulpayotee, that you are one of his warriors sent to prevent the change'
."

The next few moments involved a great deal of back pounding as Xhojee attempted to cough up the mouthful of flat bread he'd inhaled. "You sounded… just like him," he gasped when he could speak. "Don't do that!"

A lifted hand paused the explanation for a moment. Benedikt felt a need to regroup. "The Xaantalax is a woman?
And
high priestess of Xaantalicta, the moon?" When Xhojee nodded, he nodded, too. Petayn titles were so derivative they made certain associations unmistakable. "When the Xaantalax is on the throne, Xaantalicta is stronger than Tulpayotee?"

"If you believe in that sort of superstitious crap," Xhojee snorted. "What it really means is that Xaantalicta's priests become more powerful and that
they
collect the daily offerings while Tulpayotee has only the four monthly festivals to pay the bills."

"I forget you was apprenticed to a tax collector." Benedikt ducked a thrown grape. "So that is the change? The sun for the moon?"

"Not all of it. When the Xaantalax takes the throne, the Xaans will command the great houses. Xaan Mijandra, the tul's older sister will rule House Kohunlich."

"And what happens to the tul? He gets tossed out on his ear?"

"She won't hit him." Xhojee looked appalled. "She probably won't even see him; he keeps his personal holdings and the bons make sure that the tax rolls of the house are given over to her. Imixara hates the bons, because they'll be taking the power away from the tul whom she's taken care of all his life. She
really
hates Bon Kytee, but I think that's personal."