Song of Ashes

53: Boundaries Crossed

They all stared at the space where Jalea had stood. After a long silence, Konn said, "It would be foolish to believe that he is the only god who is watching our actions. There are doubtless others who wish you had both stayed where you were-and me, too, all those years ago. I evaded Kogoren's notice, but I am as guilty as you two. We are drawing unwelcome attention now that Kogoren's wrath has fallen beyond her shores. That she ordered the Annari punished...it was unprecedented. What is to stop her from sending her Beloved after the followers of other gods?"

Atai turned to face them all. "We must tread carefully. Jalea is right about one thing, my children. We risk making enemies, and we clearly have some already."

Sarka said, "I wish I had not brought you into this."

The god smiled that familiar, warm smile. "I told you before and I tell you again, Sarka: I know what I risk in helping you. Doing what is right is worth taking the treacherous road. Konn?"

The priest bowed. "My lord?"

"I believe Lady Deyna is in residence in the city. Would you be so kind as to go to her temple and request an audience? We should be proactive about gaining her allegiance now that Jalea has spoken against you. Besides, he is right: there may be some here in Deynaport who can be said to have granted you aid, be it even so small as selling bread to you in the market. If Kogoren grows restless, the scope of her wrath may broaden.

"If Lady Deyna is willing to meet with me, tell her I will go to her where she pleases, either to her temple here or to her palace in the Opal Realm. I will endeavor to make her our ally."

"Gladly, my lord." Konn turned to Sarka and Ro. "I shall return presently. Do not worry. You may have enemies, but you also have friends."

As Konn went out, Atai said, "I will go to consult with Lord Daros."

"Wait," said Sarka. "Isn't he the one who cut off your head?"

Atai smiled. "All the more reason to extend the hand of peace early," he replied. And with that, he was gone.

...

This was too much for Sarka to take in stride. She needed to breathe; she needed a moment to herself to clear her mind. Left alone with Ro in the empty temple, she felt trapped.

As she went toward the door, Ro followed her. "Sarka, where are you going?"

"Out."

"Wait! Is it safe?" He snatched her arm.

She rounded on him, crying, "There's nowhere that's safe! Tayo is watching. I know he is. He'll protect me." She shook off Ro's hand.

"Do not forget that you aren't the only ash-lander who fled," said Ro. "You aren't the only one she's hunting. You aren't the only one who's-afraid."

Sarka laughed. "You called me stupid for coming here, Ro, but you're twice as stupid for having followed me. I never asked you to come!" She shouldered open the door and stepped out into the blinding daylight.

As the door swung shut behind her, she pretended not to hear Ro's response: "But you did."

She folded her arms around herself and stepped away from the door. The cobblestones beneath her feet were cool, and for a moment, she felt better. But then, a darkness fell over her vision.

It was as if day had winked instantly into night. Just a moment ago, folk had been walking up and down the street. A carthorse had been trotting along, towing its wagon of barrels behind it. A little girl had been crying and begging for a sweet. But now there was no one. The temples that lined the Opal Road seemed to have retreated into the distance, leaving Sarka in a vast, open space.

It was cold. She could see her own breath.

At the end of the Opal Road, Sarka saw her: a spectral figure in a trailing gown, her white face like a skull in the gloom and her dark gaze as sharp and fixed as a snake's. Around her were hundreds of ghostly boys, the legion of the Beloved that she still commanded.

"Kogoren," Sarka whispered.

Her heart had frozen in her breast. She could not move.

The Ash Mother spread her arms, and as she did, the Beloved who surrounded her surged forward. It was almost as if they had taken flight, and they flooded toward Sarka, their snarling faces like foam on the crest of a wave; they would crash over her, and she would die. Sarka flung her arms over her head and fell to her knees.