The High Priest and the Idol Page 11

  “You don’t think I’d be good at the part?”

  “I’m sure you would. I just don’t think I’d be able to watch you do it without laughing.”

  *

  Finding the lever in the lion’s mouth was easy. Finding her way back down the branching passage was less so. Before she had gone half the distance to the exit, Tevi resolved to coerce Parrash into drawing a map for her. More by luck than anything else, she got to the exit without getting lost.

  Just before she reached the final corner, she heard a click, like the sound of the bolt on the hatch. Either it was Parrash or it was bad news. Did the sentinels know about the tunnels? Tevi had spent a long time in Jemeryl’s room, waiting for her to arrive, and had assumed that Parrash would have concluded his business ages ago. Was he coming back for a second time? Or was she about to be caught?

  Yet when Tevi turned the corner, the last few yards of passageway were empty, as was the chamber outside. Not until Tevi reached the main hall of the temple did she spot the neophyte priest. Parrash was crossing the floor, showing even less discretion and more haste than normal.

  Tevi made her own circuitous exit, but broke into a jog once she was in the street, with the result that she overtook Parrash well before he reached the baker’s shop.

  “Hey. Did you get delayed? You were only a few seconds in front of me.”

  Parrash stopped and turned, looking disoriented. “Er…yes. I had to wait for my contact. Then I…I thought I’d wait for you, so you didn’t get lost on the way out.”

  “You mean you gave up on me just a minute too soon?” Tevi smiled as she spoke, to show she was not seriously bothered.

  “You were such a long time. I thought maybe you’d finished before me, and left. So, er…you were just behind me?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Right.” Parrash stared down at his feet. “How did your business go?”

  “I’ve got some information I need to pass on to Darjain and the rest. When’s the next meeting?”

  “I could tell them it for you.”

  “That’s all right. Some people might need a bit of persuading. I’ll argue the case myself.”

  “If you’re sure.” Parrash looked even more unhappy. “Er…the next meeting. It’s tomorrow evening. At dusk.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you there.”

  Parrash nodded and scurried away. Tevi watched him go. Parrash was not only inept at clandestine activities, he was a lousy liar as well. So what had he been doing in the tunnels?

  *

  The same faces were gathered in the cellar when Tevi arrived. Were these the chosen representatives of their different religions, or was this the total sum of ousted priests? Tevi frowned. How many would it take to destroy the idol? And should she try to find more allies, ready for when Jemeryl had the information she needed? It was something she ought to think about. Better to plan now than to be caught out when the time came to act.

  Tevi took her place in the circle. The person on her right passed her an engraved silver flask, shaped like a teardrop and smelling strongly of alcohol. Tevi took a careful sip, expecting the worst. To her surprise, it was fine brandy, not rough spirits or a highly scented concoction. The deposed priests must have a rich benefactor. She took a second sip and then the flask continued its circuit, back to Darjain, from whom it apparently had originated.

  The cellar was clearly used primarily as a storeroom. Sacks of grain were piled in one corner and a fine dusting of flour covered the tops of three crates, one of which Darjain was using as a table. Bedrolls stacked against the wall showed that some, if not all, of the priests were living in these makeshift quarters.

  “Did your kinswoman have anything to say?” Darjain opened the questions as soon as everyone was settled.

  “Could she tell us how to defeat a sorcerer?” Alkoan was more direct in his question.

  “Ciamon isn’t a sorcerer at the moment. I asked Jem. She said he’s affected by the device he made just like everyone else.”

  “So we can get rid of him easily?”

  “Yes. But she said killing him wasn’t a good idea.”

  “She would, wouldn’t she? She wants to protect her lover.”

  “They aren’t lovers.”

  “The temple will be loveless when four stars combine.” The seer, Kel, had joined the circle but was no more in tune with her fellow conspirators.

  “Parrash has overheard them talking.” Alkoan was more focused.

  “They were lovers, years ago, but not now.”

  “So she says.”

  Tevi waved her hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter.”

  She was not going to argue the point, but she noted the meaningful look Parrash directed her way. He dropped his head, but not before Tevi had seen the faint blush on his face. He clearly knew something about her relationship with Jemeryl. Guessing how he had found out was easy. The web of secret passages in the temple had been designed for eavesdropping. How much had he listened in on her conversation with Jemeryl? It would explain why he had been only a short way ahead of her, and would also explain his manner when she had caught up with him afterwards.

  The idea was not pleasant, but now Tevi thought about it, neither was it surprising. She was a stranger who had tracked down the conspirators. Of course she would not have their trust and they would want to find out more about her. Checking that her meeting with Jemeryl matched the story she had spun was an obvious step. Yet Alkoan had no idea about how things truly stood between her and Jemeryl. Had Parrash not shared the information with him? This seemed odd, given Parrash’s obvious admiration for the Cyclian priest. But if not Alkoan, then who? Had Parrash reported back to someone else or was he purely satisfying his own curiosity?

  Whatever was going on, the answers would have to wait. Tevi continued. “Jem’s past relationship with Ciamon isn’t why she’s saying it. She wants to stop him as much as you do but she can’t do it while her magic is blocked.”

  “So she’s no help.”

  “She can be. The idol is the problem, for both of you. The glamour on it is what has let Ciamon build up his following, and the magical device that stops Jem working magic is inside it. If the idol goes, so does his power.”

  “If we destroy it, Ciamon could make another.” Alkoan was predictably hard to convince.

  Darjain was more positive. “But his religion would be shown up for the sham it is. The people would return to the true gods.”

  “Our gods are—”

  Tevi interrupted before the meeting got sidetracked. “Ciamon is a renegade sorcerer from the Coven. That’s why Jem came here. She was supposed to talk him into going back. After his plans to destroy the Coven, they’ll be even keener to see him in Lyremouth. Once the idol is destroyed, Jem will be able to take care of him. She’s far more adept at magic. Then you’ll have no idol, no High Priest, and everything can go back to how it was.”

  “The idol…yes.” Darjain smiled as he spoke. “It’s an affront to the temple. A mock god, that in turn mocks the very stones around it. It has no sanctity. No virtue. It would have to go anyway. Destroying it is an act of piety.”

  Tevi guessed the lack of blood spilt also found favour with the elderly priest.

  Alkoan was not so happy. “I’ve got an alternate plan. We kill Ciamon. We dump his idol in a dungheap, as it deserves, but we leave it intact, so it can continue ridding the world of sorcerers and their denigration of our faith. We know they laugh at us. We’ll do the laughing when they’re gone, and we can spread the word across all the land.”

  Admittedly, every sorcerer Tevi had met had been sceptical about religion. This was mainly due to the sorcerer’s ability to see the paranormal forces the priests talked about and know the claims were hopelessly, and often comically, wrong. However, this would not be a good argument to put to her audience. Tevi was trying to think of a better one, when another priest spoke.

  “No. Magic is the blessing of Nolius. If this accused idol co
ntinues to exist, how will our god reward the virtuous? I say we destroy the idol. Then we deal with this false priest. I’ll enjoy paying him back for the pain he has caused to the faithful.”

  Tevi guessed the speaker was Botha. Her words sparked a flurry of disagreement.

  “Once we destroy the idol, Ciamon will be a sorcerer again. How will you deal with him then?”

  “An iron collar stops a sorcerer working magic. If we put a collar on Ciamon before we destroy the idol we could—”

  “Well, I nominate you to walk into the temple and put the collar on him. I’ll stand outside and applaud when you come out.”

  “The last word before the darkness. The dead child cries for vengeance. How many will pay the price?”

  “What do you say that we kill Ciamon first and then destroy the idol?”

  “Please, please be calm.” Darjain stood, holding his arms out. “These spats do credit to no one. We are priests. We are the visible face of our gods. We owe them better representation.” The noise subsided. Darjain turned back to Tevi. “Was there anything else?”

  “Personally, I’m not bothered what you decide to do with Ciamon, once the idol is gone.” Tevi did not want to get involved in the issue. If she had to be honest, she lacked Jemeryl’s concern for the man. Besides, once Jemeryl could use her magical ability again, the priests’ chances of inflicting any sort of revenge on Ciamon were slight.

  Possibly, the same idea had occurred to Alkoan. “We have to kill him before the magic returns. The sooner, the better.”

  “No. Ciamon has put protective spells on the idol.”

  “You said he was no longer a sorcerer.”

  “A people seek revenge for a poisoned tear.”

  Tevi ignored Kel’s contribution. “Old spells still work, like the glamour. If you attack the idol now, you won’t succeed, and you’ll most likely be killed in the attempt. We need to wait until Jemeryl has found out how to get around the spells. She needs information from him. That’s why she doesn’t want him hurt.”

  Darjain nodded. “This sounds good to me.”

  It would, Tevi thought. You don’t have to kill anyone, and now you have a reason to spend even more time doing nothing at all.

  Yet she recognised that Darjain was a good man, out of his depth. By all accounts, he truly cared for others. He could not be blamed for ending up in a situation where he could not cope. He had loved his peaceful god and he did not know why she had deserted him. And of all faults, surely the most forgivable was being too slow to inflict harm on others, even when it was necessary. If only more people suffered from the same shortcoming, the world truly would be a better place.

  *

  Ciamon sat sprawled on a couch, with his heels resting on a low table. He had abandoned his robes and was dressed casually, in loose knee breeches and a light blue shirt, open at the neck. His feet were bare. Jemeryl was struck by the memory of him as an apprentice in Lyremouth, sitting in the same pose, with the same boyish grin on his face, explaining how to set the world to rights. It had seemed so simple, back then.

  He swirled the red wine around in his glass. “Do you remember Hallum and the refectory table?” Ciamon’s thoughts were also clearly in the past.

  “The love charm we gave him?”

  “Yeah. With hindsight, don’t you think we could have thought it through a bit better? I mean, be honest, after what he did to the table, did you ever feel comfy eating breakfast there again?”

  “Now you put it like that…” Jemeryl took a sip of her wine. “Do you know what happened to Hallum?”

  “He was up in Denbury when I was there. He’d found himself the perfect partner—a well-padded chaise longue.”

  “I guess it’s a good lay,” Jemeryl said, laughing.

  “Actually, his partner is a witch. But I tell you, if you could see the guy, I’d pick the chaise longue any day. If you’re going to settle down, you might as well be comfy.”

  “I’ve got no complaints.” Jemeryl had already told him about Tevi. “But what about you? Have you never settled down with anyone?”

  “Or item of furniture?” Ciamon grinned. “No. I’ve had a few flings, but they usually come to grief at about the time I get demoted to floor-sweeping duties. Nobody wants to be seen with an incompetent sorcerer.”

  “I wouldn’t call you incompetent.”

  “Would you like a list of people who have? I don’t mind. They’re right. I can’t be bothered with all the swotting and scribbling, trying to prove some trivial point that nobody with any real sense would give a rat’s arse about.”

  Jemeryl leaned back in her chair and sipped her wine, trying not to look as if she was thinking too hard. Ciamon had obviously not changed. He would still happily admit to being a poor scholar with no enthusiasm for studying magic. She had been a stronger sorcerer than Ciamon to start with and since finishing her apprenticeship, she had spent many years advancing her studies. Despite this, Jemeryl knew of no set of spells that might bestow absolute invulnerability against the full might of the Coven. How could Ciamon be so sure nothing could overcome the defences he had put on the idol? Somewhere, Ciamon must have picked up a truly amazing spell, and surely the ordinance at Denbury would be the most likely place.

  Jemeryl tried fishing. “You must have found something that caught your interest in Denbury.”

  “You know me. The elemental forces were always more your sort of thing. I’d have been happier at the hospital in Ekranos.”

  “If you want some irony, I did get sent to Ekranos for a while.”

  “Really?”

  “Just for six months.”

  “I wished I’d gone there. The magic side of it wouldn’t have done much for me, but saving peoples’ lives, I could have put some commitment into it…believed in what I was doing.”

  Jemeryl paused as an idea struck her. Had Ciamon realised it too? “You know the morphology will put an end to the hospital?”

  “Yes. I know. I’ve given some thought to it.”

  “And?”

  “We’re talking about equality, and freedom and justice. They’re worth making sacrifices for.”

  His own words were failing to convince Ciamon. Jemeryl could see it in his face. “What’s happened in Kradja? There must have been a hospital or infirmary here. What are people doing now when they’re ill?”

  The frown on his face deepened. “I, er…don’t know.”

  Jemeryl tried to cover her irritation at another example of Ciamon letting things slide. If he was going to take charge then he ought to make more effort to know what was happening. But immediately her irritation was swamped by shame. In her first appointment after becoming a sorcerer, she had been guilty of exactly the same failing. It was the reason she had been removed from her post and ordered to accompany Tevi. And if she had not fallen in love with an ordinary ungifted citizen, would her attitude have changed? Would age automatically have made her behave more responsibly? She had no right to criticise Ciamon.

  “Perhaps you could find out about the infirmary. Somebody must know.”

  “Yeah. I’ll—” The door opened to admit Sefriall. Immediately, Ciamon latched on to his deputy. “Ah. Just the person. Is there a hospital in Kradja?”

  If the line of questioning surprised Sefriall, she did not show it. “There was an infirmary attached to the temple. It was run by followers of Perithalma, god of healing.”

  “And now?”

  “They would not switch allegiance to Equalitus, so the infirmary was closed.”

  Ciamon bounced to his feet. “I didn’t mean that to happen. Why did nobody tell me?”

  “You gave orders that no god but Equalitus could be worshipped in the temple.”

  “But healing! The—” He bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. From their time as lovers, Jemeryl recognised the action as Ciamon fighting to keep a lid on his anger. His mood shifts could make lightning look sluggish. “I want you to find the healers and tell them they can come back.”<
br />
  “The witches can no longer work their magic. What use will they be?”

  “They’ve got knowledge about how bodies work. Herbs and compounds will still be effective. We have to—” Ciamon stopped, doubt to the point of panic written on his face.

  “Oh yes. Of course. I see where you’re going.” Sefriall spoke in sudden enlightenment. “Even under the dominion of Equalitus, people will still become sick and injured. Before now, the healer witches kept their knowledge secret, hoarding it like misers. Now they must share what they know and train everyone. The new healers will not have the same privileged magical insight, but bones will still set straight in a splint, potions will still cure.”

  “Yes.” Ciamon grabbed her words like a lifeline.

  Jemeryl shook her head. “It’s not that simple. I worked in Ekranos for a while.”

  Sefriall nodded. “Even in Kradja we have heard of the great hospital, and of its library. Once the knowledge in there is set free, who knows what miracles may be realised?”

  “You’re right.” Ciamon’s face cleared. His anger evaporated as quickly as it had come and he dropped back onto the couch. “If we all work together, we can defeat illness, just as we can defeat injustice and tyranny.”

  Jemeryl also sank back in her seat. Arguing was pointless. This was not the first occasion where she had witnessed Sefriall’s ability to manipulate Ciamon, telling him what he wanted to hear, but slanting it to her own agenda. The situation was worrying. Ciamon was a bad politician, and Sefriall had ambitions. Jemeryl knew that he was playing no part in running the town. All practical matters were left in Sefriall’s hands, and Jemeryl did not trust her. She was not someone who Jemeryl would have chosen to run the world. Would Sefriall also remind Tevi of her grandmother?

  Ciamon picked up his wineglass. “So. What was it you wanted?”

  Sefriall sighed, sorrowfully. “There was trouble in town last night. Nothing serious. A few hotheads drinking too much. Some people were hurt and a couple of houses and a shop were burnt down.”

  “Do you have any idea who did it?”