“We think she will. Phaed says she will. With everyone in such a temper at Phaed, he’s turned to brooding on the wrongs life deals to a dedicated man. I suppose it’s only right the old man should have something for all his time and effort, since he got no thanks for it.”
Saturday sighed. “Why does the prophet want to kill us?”
“The Awateh?”
“Yes. What have we done that he should want to kill us?”
“Nothing,” Preu said, shaking his head. “Or nothing much. He still doesn’t know you’re the girl who sang, there at the concert, so it isn’t that. Mostly it’s just that you’re not one of us. If you’re not one of us, you’re an unbeliever. Everyone not part of us is part of the devil: you, the people of Ahabar, the people of Phansure, everyone. Our Cause is to destroy the devil, all of it. We’re the only true followers of God. We have the truth. It was revealed to us, long ago, on Manhome.”
“But the women don’t act as you do,” said Saturday. “The priests aren’t like you.”
“The priests are left over from another tribe. They were driven out when we were. Our leaders were Voorstod and the prophets. They made a compromise. They let the priests live, but on the final day, when our Cause is fulfilled, we will kill all the priests. On that day all the women will go into seclusion, like the wives of the prophets, and they will not need priests ever again.” Preu sighed. “Do not think ill of the Awateh. He is impatient, that’s all. He’s dying. He’s waited all his life for the final days to come, and he wants to see it happen, before he dies.”
Jep could not believe it. “He really wants everyone dead except his own people?”
Preu bridled at his tone. “Don’t say ‘he’ in that manner, boy. He wants no more than all of us.” His voice had turned ragged, and he breathed heavily.
“You believe that, too?”
“Of course I believe it. It is my Cause. It was my father’s Cause, and his father’s before him. Even on Manhome we killed the unbelievers.” He stared at Saturday with wide, unfocused eyes, as though saying the words had put him into some beatific state. His voice rose into a chant. “We killed many. Our slaughterers went among the sheep and put the knives to their throats. We shattered them in the air. We slaughtered them upon the sea. We took them hostage and made great countries pay ransom. But evil men came against us in great numbers and drove us into the wilderness. …” He was in an ecstasy of recollection.
Saturday listened, trying not to feel. She hated him. She hated what he said, what he stood for. To her, he seemed totally evil, as did all his prophets and his friends. The world he saw was not the world she knew. She wanted to kill him and knew she could not. Her mind and belly burned, as though with fire. Her throat was tight. She hurt, and there was not enough of Birribat Shum left inside her to stop the pain.
“What will you do if Ahabar invades?” Jep asked, after the chanting had stopped and Preu’s breathing had become more or less normal.
“Ahabar won’t invade,” he said calmly. “The prophets say it won’t. Almighty God told them so.”
The flier set down beside a barricade at the southern border of Skelp. Maire came running toward them as they got out of the flier.
“They kept Sam?” Maire whispered, horrified.
“They said Phaed wanted to get to know him. We left Sam in Sarby. They said you would come in even if they kept Sam.”
“Oh those evil men!” Maire gripped Saturday’s shoulder. “You were successful?”
“In Selmouth and in Sarby we were successful,” said Saturday. “After those two, we turned it over to the Gharm. They know what’s to be done. Cloud and Scaery next. Then everywhere. As soon as they can. It will take a while, Maire. We did the best we could.”
“So,” Maire mused. “Sam and I need only survive against hostility for a time. Perhaps not too long. Perhaps we can last long enough.”
“The prophets may kill you, Maire. They want to kill someone!”
“In Voorstod, death waits at every door. If I don’t go, they’ll surely kill Sammy, and he’s my son.”
“They’ll expect you to sing.”
“A doctor here has looked at my throat. He says I have a growth there. Perhaps Phaed will believe it, or their own doctors will confirm it. Perhaps that will take long enough. Also, there is the blockade …” Her voice trailed away. “I have convinced the Queen that she must not invade Voorstod, not just yet, but she gets very angry. I have explained what I can to Commander Karth. He will try to reason with her. The army must not go into Voorstod. Not yet.”
“We know,” Saturday soothed.
“What news of Stenta Thilion?” asked Jep.
Maire’s eyes filled. “She died. Yesterday. She never came to herself again. When it happened, the Queen wanted to wipe out Voorstod in that moment. I pled with the Queen myself, urging her to be patient. For the sake of the Gharm.”
She picked up her pack and went out the door. At the door she paused to say, “I told the Queen that Stenta’s body should be kept for a time, then brought here to Green Hurrah where a great tomb will be built by the Gharm to receive her. I don’t know if she believes me, but it made her feel better.”
Across the barricade, Preu Flandry waited.
“Will you take me to my son?” Maire called in her rough, husky voice.
“That’s where Phaed is,” called Preu. “You can have a family reunion.”
Maire took Saturday into a close embrace, then Jep, then crossed the barrier to the flier.
“So you keep your word, Maire Manone,” said Preu Flandry.
“So I always have,” she said. “Would others in Voorstod had always done the same.”
• At Authority, Rasiel Plum had put
