washed away grime and clumps of thinning hair, matting what remained to their necks and shoulders. An aura of heat surrounded them, feverish and sweaty, a fog of humidity created by their constant trembling movement, a blur of suffering and madness.
Those who followed watched in awe and revulsion, sensing a terror unlike any they had felt before. Constantly, they whispered prayers to their devil-god, praising his wisdom and power. Morgynn smirked as she watched through her scrying bowl. She allowed the wizard-priests their prayers and misguided praise, if only to keep them loyal, but wondered if even that vile god was capable of what she'd done, of what she'd birthed. 'Impossible,' she said aloud, startling Khaemil. 'What do the gods know of mortality?' She sneered as she gazed, her face lit by a crimson glow, and mumbled her thoughts into the bowl, conversing with herself. Finally, Morgynn stepped back from the scrying bowl with look of contentment. The light of candles danced in her eyes as she turned to Khaemil. 'Soon,' she said. 'Now, what news do you have?' 'It is the tower, Lady,' he began, measuring his words carefully. 'The Gargauthans report that it is resisting their further attempts to strengthen the net of spells. The most recent runes, once written, begin to fade and must be applied again and again to maintain the magic's integrity.' 'And what cause do they suspect?' she asked, her voice perilously close to anger. 'Only the tower itself,' he answered.
'The source of the obstruction is unknown but local.' Her eyes scanned the walls, searching for some trick or ward unnoticed before. Nothing.
'They can maintain the control we currently hold?' 'Yes, Lady, long enough at any rate.' 'Good,' she answered, still peering at the tower walls, though she half-suspected the latent magic of the Qurth itself was at work somehow. 'The storm and the obscuring shield should be necessary only for dealing with the oracles. I had wished to keep it longer, as we moved on the rest of the Reach, but I suppose…' Her words trailed off as she imagined the fruits of her ambition. Khaemil did not reply. She didn't notice his silence, anyway, as she walked over to the window. Her eyes saw a horizon not yet born, a world under a twilit sky taken by the Order. The people who lived in her ambition were faceless, meaningless, casualties of her will and purpose. They were despairing throngs devoid of hope, lost between life and death, darkness and light. They would know, she thought, what Gargauth could not. 'It takes knowledge of a life lived,' she whispered, 'to know the nature of a life destroyed.' Though her outward demeanor was calm, she clawed at the stone window ledge, scraping her knuckles open on its rough surface. She allowed them to bleed, oblivious to the pain, and marveled at the sight of lightning reflected in the smeared drops of red.
Elisandrya stalked toward the sanctuary doors, assured of her path for the first time in her life. Her life had been a series of distractions, anything to escape the memory that chained her to what she could be and what she should be. The deaths of her parents had been shrouded in doubt that dissolved day by day. The more she lived, the more she knew, the more she was driven to act, regardless of consequence. She opened the doors and stopped, looking for Sameska.
The other oracles were gone, possibly in council, and for a moment she feared Sameska was with them. Then she noticed the high oracle, her back to the doors, staring at the curtain behind the altar and the dais. Sameska gripped the soft fabric, exhaling long rasping breaths.
She didn't notice Eli's arrival, lost in some fit or trance. The muted voices of the oracles could be heard from the chamber beyond. The arrival of the Hoarite had done much to solidify the truth of Sameska's predictions, but his words had sown seeds of doubt and discord among the more fertile minds of her lessers. The top of the curtain began to tear. Sameska wheezed through clenched teeth, squeezing her eyes shut as she turned toward Elisandrya. 'No,' Sameska said as the episode passed, 'this is not the time for anger. I will not add flame to their fires.' Calming, gathering her wits, she stared at the silhouette of Savras beneath its concealing cloth. She gasped as the black fabric fluttered and waved, but the open doors revealed the source of the breeze. She stood straighter, peering through the dim sanctuary with narrowed eyes. Elisandrya stood outlined by the light of a torch in the hallway beyond. Her squared shoulders and hostile demeanor left no doubt as to her intention. 'You killed them.'
Her voice was low, menacing. 'I fear your judgment has been influenced by honeyed words and a handsome face, child.' Sameska's voice was clear and strong, a practiced tone perfected by years of speaking to her followers. 'The only killer here is the one you escorted to this temple.' Eli walked closer, approaching the center of the room. She ignored Sameska's remark. 'Targris. Logfell…' 'Hold your tongue, girl!' Sameska shouted. '… my parents,' Eli's tone did not change.
She refused to be baited by the high oracle's condescension. 'Madness!
Blasphemy!' Sameska's throat constricted, causing the words to issue forth in a screeching whisper. A shiver ran through her body and she was transfixed by Elisandrya's nearing form, her slow step and balled fists. 'You told me they were set upon by bandits while traveling to Littlewater.' Eli huffed and shook her head. 'You even managed to sound sorrowful.' 'I told you the truth!' 'Oh, yes,' Eli said, then yelled, 'The day before it happened!' Eli flung the words like a hammer, releasing the truth that had plagued her for years, had fed on her spirit, on her faith in all she'd been taught. The guilt of those long years of denial rose in her throat, demanding release. Sameska flinched as if struck and raised an arm to protect herself as Eli edged closer still. Tears rimmed the hunter's eyes but held fast to their perches, making way for the steely-eyed assuredness of vindication. 'This has been a long time coming, High Oracle.' 'You would draw that blade against me, here in this temple?' Only then did Eli notice that her hand rested firmly on her sword's hilt, and she pondered Sameska's question. She struggled between rage and sorrow, flooded with both as years of quiet suspicion and youthful rebellion took root in the present. The once cold facade of the high oracle's face did not match the nervous and unstable woman who backed away from her, arms raised before eyes livid with indignant fury. She did not remove her hand from the sword, but neither did she unsheathe it.
Ignoring the high oracle's question, she continued. 'My mother defied you, accused you of using the sight to further your own power.' Eli's words were focused on Sameska, but she spoke more for herself than for the high oracle. 'She would have ruined you, and so, too, the traditions of the Setha'Mir. 'My father would not let her travel alone, guarding her as she went to Littlewater to speak with the oracles there, to plead her case against you. And you let them die.'
'You are as naive as she was, Elisandrya Loethe! You believe rumor and hearsay before the words of your betters. She paid terribly for her hasty actions,' she replied. 'The Hidden Circle tolerated you for the sake of your mother. I see now that was a mistake.' Sameska had lowered her arms and now attempted a more authoritative demeanor. 'One mistake among many, 'a blade of grass on the Shaar,' as our people once said.' 'Further evidence, child, that you are living in the past.' Sameska turned away. Elisandrya stepped closer, inches from the high oracle. 'I think being aware of the past has proven quite valuable in recent days.' Eli stared daggers at Sameska's back. 'Our present may depend on it.' Sameska looked sidelong at Eli over a trembling shoulder. 'Your ignorance is no longer welcome here, child.
You and your sister shall be arrested and charged with heresy before the Hidden Circle.' Sameska's hidden smile was evident in her tone as she added, 'Unless you intend to slay me, I have no doubt what conclusion will be drawn, I assure you.' Elisandrya breathed close to Sameska's ear, making up her mind and slowly drawing her sword. The high oracle trembled all the more, but made no move to defend herself.
For all the favor of Savras she supposedly had, Elisandrya considered Sameska's helplessness quite telling. She savored the moment, then spoke, her sword freed. 'Don't bother with your charges.' Elisandrya turned and walked toward the sanctuary doors, satisfied that she had said all she needed and heard all that was necessary. 'You renounce your faith, then?' Eli slowed and stopped, but did not face the high oracle. Her words echoed easily in the round chamber. She had no need to look upon Sameska's face again. 'I do not question my faith.' She adjusted her armor and bow as she added, 'I renounce this prophecy and your foolish edict, but most of all, I renounce you. Savras willing, I will finish what my mother started.' She shoved the doors open and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Sameska to shiver and fume in the blasting winds of the storm that howled through the open temple doors.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
