Song of Ashes

46: An Accord

Sarka could not sleep that night. She did not know whether Tayo and Karsa would succeed in saving the sailors on the Jewelwave; she could not go outside to call for Tayo to ask. Without him, she was open to attack by others of the Beloved. She had enough to worry about without tempting fate.

Konn had not woken when she had brought Ro into their sleeping quarters. The ash-walker had slumped onto his pallet and fallen asleep almost before he could cover himself, still dripping wet from the rain. He did not seem to have trouble sleeping. Sarka looked across the dim chamber and saw the planes of his dark face highlighted by the ruddy glow of the dying embers on the hearth.

She sighed and stared up at the ceiling, turning her predicament over in her mind. Finally, in the middle hour of the night, she rose from her pallet as quietly as she could so as not to disturb Konn and Ro, and she took her sewing things into the sanctuary. There, she lit a lamp, sat down, and began to work.

Sarka had always been an ill-tempered woman: impatient, selfish, and impulsive. In life, she was restless and overeager to achieve her own priorities, all of which centered around survival. But when she sewed, she found a peace that was distant at all other times of her life. Only when she plied the trade her mother had taught her during endless, patient hours did she ever feel truly at rest. She had almost hated some of the work she had done in Rohk's shop; it had all been for his gain. But now, sewing for herself, she found stillness and a welcome clarity of thought.

When morning came, she was still sitting there at work. Her damaged shoulder was stiff and sore, but she continued to stitch, oblivious to the world around her. She had not noticed that the room had lightened, making her sputtering lamp useless.

"You are awake early. Have you been here all night, my child?"

"Yes." Sarka set aside her project. "When were you going to tell me about Lord Jalea?"

Atai sat down next to her, resting his head on his knee. "When it concerned you," he said mildly.

"I should think it concerns me," Sarka snapped. She drew a breath, frowning at herself, and tried to soften her manner. "I'm sorry to be sharp."

"You need not be sorry, Sarka. I'm coming to anticipate your insolence." He smiled. "I find that insolent mortals are often the honest ones. But in this case, my child, you are only half-right. Yes; Lord Jalea and I have discussed you. He believes you are to blame for the tragedy that befell the crew of The Crescent."

"I am. They would all still be alive were it not for me. I didn't know..."

"Precisely. You did not know. And I have expressed to Lord Jalea that you are serving in my temple; priestess you are not, but an acolyte, certainly. The God of the Crescent may not touch a hair on your head, for you go under my protection. Were he to harm you, he would set himself at odds with me and all those who hold the bond between deity and servant as sacrosanct."

Sarka looked down at her work. "But that puts him in the right, doesn't it, my lord? I violated his own bond with his servants. The Annari were his people."

"You did not violate that bond. Kogoren did. You simply accepted the help that was offered to you. Furthermore, you are no longer a servant of Kogoren. You are-in deed, at least, if not in heart-" and here he winked- "a servant of mine."

Atai's matter-of-fact explanation assuaged Sarka's fears, strange though it was. She had been doubtful that Lord Atai could protect her from another god, but he seemed to have no concerns whatsoever about his ability to keep Jalea at a distance. "It really is my fault," she whispered. "I should never have run."

"And remained in Kogoren? Would you still be alive? You are skin and bones. We all of us know how it is in Kogoren for the people she left behind. You escaped for your own life, and it was not your intent to harm the Annari. You deeply regret their deaths. I read it in your face. In my perspective, you are blameless in this matter. And," he continued, playfulness entering his tone, "you will be glad to know that my perspective is the only one to which I attribute any value."