Rak watched the mingling with great interest. “Sunset, to night, to dawn,” he murmured. Ritsa’s eyes were still locked on his hand. He turned his completely healed palm towards her so that she could see that there was nothing to worry about.
Asfalea smiled at him and lowered her staff. She walked with great dignity to the door and opened it. Outside, a crowd of Valers stood silently. “Done!” Asfalea raised her staff. “Finally, Zotien altar here!” The Valers cheered and then crowded into the house, the ones who did not fit inside clumping around the wide open windows so they could still hear.
Jisten tried to melt into the background before the rites started. “I’m not worthy,” he muttered but Rak gripped his wrist, preventing the Valer’s escape.
“Stay by me,” Rak ordered. “My Valer is more than worthy.”
Asfalea celebrated the sunset rite, her aged voice still strong as she led the hymns. The sun vanished beneath the horizon, and Rak began the first hymn of the night over the final chant of the sunset rite. The two hymns complimented one another, forming a harmony that was as rich as it was unexpected. Asfalea’s farewell to the day ended and Rak’s chant changed to a paean of welcome to the night.
Rak kept Jisten close beside him as he conducted the rite. Fall of Night was mercifully short, and once it was done, Rak turned and offered to bless the Valers. The Valers shot Jisten shy or inquiring looks when they approached Rak, but quickly downcast their gaze again. Rak blessed each Valer in turn, but he was in physical contact with Jisten the entire time.
“Bwess me!” demanded a bold toddler from his mother’s arms. She shushed him, but Rak chuckled softly, blessed the toddler, and the mother, too. Quick as lightning, the toddler took a sodden piece of candy out of his mouth and smacked it into Rak’s palm. The mother gasped in horror and utter embarrassment.
Rak held up his hand, the candy prominently displayed. Night flames flared up, and the candy vanished. “Thank you,” he told the toddler in a serious voice.
The boy was astonished into silence at that. His mother took the opportunity to scurry away, before her child could do something more outrageous.
Jisten put his hand on the small of Rak’s back, wing draped over his wrist. Rak leaned against Jisten, his weariness and pain transmitting through the bond. Rak glanced up at the captain and asked, “How many Valers are there here?”
Jisten said, “Last count was just over a hundred. I’ll shoo away the second timers. You need to rest. Once this is done, I’ll escort you back to the palace.”
“Can I eat first?” asked Rak in a wistful tone. He hadn’t missed the preparations for what amounted to a feast, and his stomach was growling.
Jisten shook his head at each child sneaking back into the line. That cleared it out a lot faster. Once Rak had blessed the last Valer in the line, Jisten announced, “The high priest is hungry. Let us share with him!”
Chapter Nineteen: Midnight Rites
ªnatåra Atålio, Tålyssa Fångari
9th day, 2nd week, Telyssa’s moon
Rak grimaced as he downed more morphea-laced wine. He didn’t care for morphea, but it was more tolerable than the pain that kept exceeding his ability to shunt it aside. It was almost midnight. He frowned. Jethain had been attacked, and purged again, during the midnight rite. Mursonknew that Rak could not skip that rite. His pendant had only slowed the chaos priest, and the man had proven able to defeat the thansymi, the captain, and himself with equal ease. The solution presented itself to Rak, and he admired the elegant simplicity of it for a drug-hazed moment.
“Tebber,” he said quietly, “please wake Jethain and bring him here for mass.”
* * * *
Tebber was passed through by Fentri and Largo. They recognized him and knew he was no threat to the prince. Jisten and Jethain were sleeping. Tebber looked from one to the other, wondering which he should awaken first.
Jisten preempted the decision by awakening first. He jumped out of bed and had his dagger at Tebber’s throat. “S’Rak’s just as jumpy,” commented Tebber, unafraid.
Jisten sheathed the dagger. “Assassination attempts under our noses will do that.”
Jethain yawned widely from the bed.
Tebber grinned. He’d known that Jisten wouldn’t actually hurt him. “S’Rak wants the prince to attend the midnight rites, sir. He says that since Murson prefers to purge Jethain while he is busy with the rite, perhaps if Jethain was at the rite, rather than in bed…”
“Jethain?” Jisten asked. “What say you?”
“An excellent idea,” Jethain said, and stretched.
Jisten offered a hand up to the prince, who took it with a grin.
Tebber selected some clothes for Jethain, picking garments that were ruffle-free. Jethain dropped his sleeping pants but had to hold onto Jisten’s shoulder to steady himself while he stepped out of them. Tebber kept his knowing smile to himself and deftly assisted Jethain with his clothes.
Morth yawned from Jethain’s bed and moved to the warm hollow the prince had left expressly for him. Between Jisten as support and Tebber as aide, the prince was dressed with only a minimal pounding of his heart. Jisten checked his pulse and concern flitted across his face. Tebber caught the expression and chewed his lower lip. He didn’t think Jethain would let them carry him.
* * * * They walked to the guest suite, Morth padding alongside at Jisten’s urging. He didn’t want the death hound hurt by Murson. At this hour, the corridors of the palace were empty and oddly shadowed. Only every third gaslight remained lit through the night. Jisten kept closer than usual to the prince, ready to support him in an eyeblink, with Tebber on Jethain’s other side. Rak met them at the door to the suite and ushered them inside. He took Tebber’s place
