At Aden's request, servants provided them with cloaks suitable for the cool fall evening. Jill's was red silk with a white fir trimmed hood and interior lining; Aden's a plain black. She would have preferred the more inconspicuous, but apparently someone had decided the "look at me" dress needed a cloak to match. While they waited in the foyer, another servant ran out to secure them a public carriage. Jill watched the boy through the swirls of frosted glass. He stood on the street's edge at the end of the lane, hand out as if hailing a taxi.
Seeing him, Jill felt an odd pang of homesickness. But was it really home she missed? This was the longest she'd been without either Brexten or Perren; maybe it was their familiarity she wanted. Aden was still a stranger she didn't entirely trust. What did she know about him? Beyond that, what did he really want from her? Jill glanced at the still-pink scar on her right forearm. Did any of these people have her best interests at heart?
A moment later, Aden's hand was at her elbow as he guided her down the walkway and to the waiting carriage. He stopped and offered her a hand up inside. When their fingers touched, no magic tingled. No threads came screaming into view. All she felt was the warmth of his fingers over hers. See, the touch seemed to say, taunting her. You're getting paranoid over nothing. No real attraction here, silly girl.
The carriage took off at a lurch, and the whole thing swayed and bumped with the movement of the horses. The interior was cramped and dark. A single bench ran along the back of the carriage looking just long enough for three people. Jill sat on the thin seat cushion covering the bench. The windows were covered with heavy velvet drapery but without glass. Their edges had been tacked to the carriage walls to prevent them from blowing in the breeze. She might as well have been sitting in a refrigerator for all the comfort and warmth in the carriage.
The journey could have been five minutes or a year; she had no idea. Her mind kept going back to the moment when she'd broken that single thread. Events could have played out very differently and that knowledge sickened her. And yet, she couldn't curb her curiosity. What kind of Shey was she—if she was even Shey at all? What if these weren't even really her powers? Maybe Kachine had done something to her during the trip through the portal. Or, Arianie could have changed her during the Awakening. It was almost enough to make her run screaming. Why couldn't there be some kind of Shey / Awakening handbook explaining what to expect?
Aden's hand reached out to her. She looked at it as if it were something alien, then realized belatedly the carriage had stopped and he was offering to help her to climb down.
The temple. They had reached their destination.
The moon hung low in the sky. Its pale light framed a small, unassuming building atop a cliff overlooking Myriette's Bay. From the bottom of the hill where she stood, nothing about the temple suggested the presence of the goddess. Ahead ran a narrow footpath adorned with weeds and white stone markers. A quick look back showed a noisy and bright Shaar behind them.
"It feels like we're about to leave the real world behind. Or, at least, the material world," Jill murmured, looking back to Aden.
"That was the intent. No carriages are allowed further than the base of the hill. If one wants to see Arianie, one approaches on foot."
Jill lifted the hem of her dress and looked down ruefully at her borrowed shoes. "At least we're not hiking up the side of a mountain."
"There is that. Come on. I'll help you." Aden's quick smile left her with a conspiratorial feeling, as if the two of them were doing something to rest of the world had mistakenly overlooked. He took her arm and the feeling grew. Being set on fire suddenly seemed like a minor thing. So much for not trusting him.
The walk wasn't long or difficult and they finished the trek in no time. At the top, Aden swung open the temple's heavy wooden door and they stepped inside. Immediately, she went still, her cloak nearly caught in the door when Aden let it swing close behind her. For some reason, Jill thought it would feel like the Forest—singing with power and life. It didn't. Instead, she caught a whiff of lingering decay, a sense of things dead and dying. She didn't even need to lower her wards to feel it—it came to her. If any threads existed, they had long since been polluted. Someone had made it their business to rape the temple's power.
She thought of the Maze and the black marble in her dreams, of the blood bubbling up from the floor: a different kind of temple, one meant to desecrate. Jill closed her eyes, letting her breathing grow shallow so she wouldn't throw up. The Maze...Brexten in the Maze killing aldar teres...In her dream with Coric, he'd referred to blood sacrifices. They had to be the blood sacrifices he meant! Brexten had been put in the Maze to slaughter aldar teres, with their blood giving it the power to corrupt the magic's source. And Tamas had rounded up the aldar teres, using their lives to fuel his plans. Why? When would she have enough pieces to see the point?
Her back was pressed against the door, her left hand holding the handle with white-knuckled strength. She heard Aden at her side, felt the air move as he leaned in.
"Jill, are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she lied, struggling to fight panic and swallow the vomit rising in her throat.
His hand reached inside her cloak, resting briefly against her collarbone. Jill felt a pulse of magic hit her, and the wave of nausea passed. Aden smiled down at her. "You looked like you needed it."
"I...Yes, I did. That's pretty handy. Thanks."
"Remember what I said about working with a willing Shey. The two magics mesh."
Was he deliberately trying to remind her of the pull they'd felt to fall on each other back at Geniece's? She smiled wanly and pulled away.
To distract herself, she whispered, "It feels so barren. I almost don't want to go any further."
"It wasn't always like this. Before the sorcerers arrived, you could feel the goddess here."
"Why do you call them sorcerers? Why not Shey?"
"That was their word for themselves, not ours. They don't work magic the way Shey do. They need to change its form before they can use it in a way that's familiar to them. I think that's why the power is fading. As they change the magic to suit themselves, it no longer works for the rest of us."
"No," Jill said, shaking her head, pulling her thoughts back into line. "I don't think they're changing it, at least not the way you think. They're corrupting it."
"Isn't that technically the same thing?"
So many riddles to solve and so many pieces still missing. But now, with Coric's dream—or was it Kydel's—at least she had more pieces to play with. "I don't know yet."
She stepped away so he couldn't ask more questions and moved into the temple's interior. It had been built in a half circle, with the furthest wall away rounded to curve out before her. In front, at the end of a long aisle cutting through row upon row of devotional mats, was a stone altar. Behind the altar and placed on marble pedestals were three stone statues: a young girl, a pregnant woman, and a stooped hag. Three aspects of Arianie? Suspended above the altar hung a single red candle, burning brighter than any other in the room.
Two women in muted red robes knelt on the devotional mats, their bodies prostrate and foreheads bowed to the floor. Each murmured a round of prayers. The young, high voice; the older, lower one. Their prayers sounded like singing with each prayer rapidly following the next, the words building into layered chants. The younger woman, no a girl really, sat up and looked back at them. Her and Aden's approaching footsteps must have interrupted her. Yet instead of resuming her prayers, she continued to stare. She looked surprised, as if amazed anyone would want to visit the temple. So long did she remain silent, the other woman turned to investigate.
"We would like to see the senior priestess," Aden said to the older woman. "We have a matter to discuss that she might find of interest."
"She's not to be disturbed until half-past the hour," came her answer, the tone pert.
Aden made a noise between irritation and amusement. "I'm afraid we don't have the luxury of time. I think she would excuse the interruption in this case."
"The senior priestess left specific orders not to be interrupted until she's finished her—"
"An Awakening has happened," Aden said, impatiently overriding her. "A true Awakening. It happened in Pydia several days ago."
The woman blinked and looked startled. A range of emotions washed over her face: joy, hope, disbelief, even anger. "How do I know you're not lying?"
Aden stared down at her, eyes narrowing. "Do you really think it's worth my time to travel all this way with nothing but lies?" He stepped further into the light so she could more clearly see him. "Do you know who I am?"
The woman sat back on her heels, hands rising to her mouth as her eyes flew from Aden to Jill then back again. "My lord Shey'na'shen? I thought...It was rumored...You're here, in Shaar?"
Aden looked disgusted. "Tell the senior priestess we need to see her."
"And who is she?" the woman asked, recovering and nodding toward Jill.
"Did I not say there was an Awakening?"
The woman gasped. "Then is she—"
"The senior priestess. Get her."
"Yes, my lord," she said, followed by a rustle of cloth as the priestess rose from her mat on the floor.
"Well, that should get something started. Jill? Jill, what is it?"
Jill wasn't listening. Had stopped listening really. She walked to the altar, wading through the mats, meandering without knowing what she wanted, letting Aden deal with the politics. When she reached the altar, she stopped to gaze speculatively at the cold stone on the dais. Finally the still-kneeling girl asked, "Have you come to offer prayers to the goddess?"
Jill turned to study her, frowning. A simple question, but she needed a moment to think. The answer she wanted lay just out of reach, waiting for her to grasp it. This temple had once offered a sheltering calm to the goddess's worshipers. Once, prayers had been heard there. Now, they weren't. Maybe, if someone could clear away the decay, those prayers could be heard again.
A soothing strength grew within her at that thought. It filled her up and leaked away, the serenity pouring outward like some tangible thing—water from a cup.
"No, we did not come to pray."
She couldn't say what compelled her, but she stepped up onto the dais and let her fingers trail across the altar. She walked a full circuit, stopping when she could look out at the mats. When she lifted her fingers, the tips were coated with dust. Didn't anyone ever clean here? Did no one care anymore?
"Lady, please," begged the girl as she rose from her mat. At her right temple, near her eye, lay a freshly inked crescent moon tattoo. The goddess' moon, Jill suspected, thinking of the Awakening moon in Pydia. "You need to step away from there."
The warning went ignored. Instead, she stood so the red candle hung even with her chest. She leaned into the altar, hands braced on the chilly stone, and watched the flame. No breeze existed to disturb it. Not once did it waver. "This light signifies the presence of Arianie here in her temple, doesn't it?" she asked, distantly amazed by her own boldness. "If it goes out, does it mean she has abandoned her people?"
"Only the senior priestess appointed by the High Priestess in Valinac can stand near the light. Please, step away."
Like the first, the second warning was disregarded. Rather, Jill concentrated on the calm inside herself. As she turned inward, she was certain she could hear the distant sound of drums, beating out the Awakening's rhythm and calling the goddess to dance. Suddenly, she could feel tingling along all her nerve endings, the feeling akin to pins and needles running rampant throughout her body. At the same time, in her mind's eye, she could see the whole of the world balanced in the palm of her hand. She looked down on the tiny globe, picking out mountains, rivers, forests—looking with fondness at the thing she held. Not so difficult to repair, she told herself, only vaguely realizing the thoughts weren't all quite her own. The choice I make now is mine. All the choices are mine. I am not Kydel's tool. What I've done and what I will do are based on my decisions and I will live by them all.
Deliberately, she bent to the candle and blew on the flame. It was only a gentle puff of air, barely enough to make it flicker. A second and third breath followed. The priestess gave a tiny scream and surged forward. Jill met her gaze and the young woman stopped moving. Eyes locked with the priestess', she blew again, this time hard enough to douse any candle.
The flame didn't go out.
"Do you understand what you see here?" she asked.
The priestess tumbled to her knees, jaw dropping, face panicked, head shaking vehemently. She nearly clipping her chin on the dais when she went down. "My lady! The flame! Please tell me what it means!"
"This is only a symbol of what is, not its reality."
"But it's not going out! I don't understand."
"Jill." It was Aden speaking. He stood at the edge of the dais, almost close enough to touch it. He looked feverish and excited, fighting to restrain himself from leaping at her. "It's her, isn't it? It's the goddess. She's here. You're Arianie's Chosen and she's using you to speak."
For a long time she looked at him, considering the right answer. Under her gaze, she watched him tremble and his breathing quicken. He was struggling to hold up his wards when it appeared all he really wanted to do was let them drop and draw in magic. Magic that right now, the temple didn't have.
Finally, the right question. Aden had given it to her. 'It's her, isn't it?' he'd asked. And the answer? Yes, it was. It was Arianie—in her.
The tingling along her skin burned like a fire desperate to be free of her body. She had to get rid of the excess energy before it consumed her. With both hands, she gestured out to the room, flinging out power raging inside her. Threads came, responding to the magic she radiated. She glimpsed them through her falling wards: black, battered, and contaminated, twisting like animals that didn't want to be caged. She almost choked on their decay. How could so many threads—which held the world together—be so tainted?
She reached inside herself, finally touching that source of power she'd just discovered. It glowed white-hot with raw energy. Just a feather's touch and magic flared again, pouring out of her and into the threads. Decay burned away like mist before the sun. The writhing stopped. Threads spun out from her fingertips, forming a web of perfect order.
Inward, always turning inward, she could see in her mind's eye Kydel fighting with her. He strained against the chains binding him to the mountain. She felt him pull energy from her and cried out as he drew on her web of power. In the empty space he left behind were images she couldn't fight free of. Flames. People crying then melting in flames. Someone chasing her through a thick forest, then a maze. Creatures of darkness tearing at flesh. Kydel again—the chain binding his left arm pulled taut, its links strained to the breaking point. Next came a scream so awful, she crumpled under it and covered her ears. Black threads wound around her threatening to savage everything she'd saved.
A resounding snap sent her reeling. Magic tore from its moorings. The chain on Kydel's left arm, no longer taut, lay with its links broken. He heaved with pain, his body twisted cruelly on his mountain of shadowed darkness. For a single moment, their eyes met and though his lips did not move, he said, "So long as the heart can be kept safe, this world will remain free."
He faded, leaving a view of threads red and pulsing—visible so that even Aden and the priestess could see them. Where each thread reconnected, it renewed another until all pulsed red with magic. They bent and whirled into a single light with her at its center.
"Gentle goddess, Jill. Is this what the threads are truly like to you?" Aden whispered, half-kneeling, half-standing on the dais. He gazed around the temple, then back to Jill. "They're beautiful."
"Oh, my lady," the priestess murmured, bowing over and over again, the words breaking into her thoughts. "Please help us. Show us the way. Tell us how to serve you."
She shook her head. "I didn't come to be served. I came to fight."
And the light flashed from red to searing white before it faded in a blaze of furious glory.
Herself again, Jill caught the corner of the altar to keep from collapsing. Her knees buckled and she went down despite her best efforts. Aden rushed to her side. In a single fluid motion, he grabbed her and held her upright.
Jill held on as hard as she could, hiding her eyes against his shoulder. Spasms shook her—aftershocks of memory and magic. Oh God, she hadn't expected that. Hadn't expected any of it. Kachine...Coric...They hadn't prepared her for this. Nothing in her life could have prepared her.
"My lady!" screamed the younger priestess. "The temple! I can feel the change! Bless you, my lady! May the goddess—"
"The senior priestess!" Aden shouted at the girl. "Where is she?"
There was real anger in his voice and Jill heard a squeak of fear followed by a series of 'yes, my lord's, followed by running footsteps, and slamming doors.
"Aden, Arianie's here," Jill whispered frantically into his cloak. "She's here, in me. She's been there since the Awakening. I just didn't know it until now. She...Kydel...All of the gods...I think they want me to be their instrument to fix whatever's wrong with your world."
"No!" He held her at arm's length, eyes darting over her face. "No matter what tie you have to Arianie, you are yourself before everything."
"I want to believe you, but she's here. I feel her now. She's resting, or...God, I don't even know the right words to use. All that power...Aden, Arianie's power is in me...That's why I can see threads. That's why I could purify the temple. It's her, using me!" Exhaustion hit her then. Her head lolled back and legs collapsed. Only Aden's hold kept her from cracking her skull on the altar. Yet swimming up through the weariness came one last, powerful thought.
"I need to see Brexten. I have to tell him about this. He needs to know about your dream. And mine about the marble and Kydel chained to the mountain and—"
"Getting you out of here and to the safe house is a thousand times more important than finding that worthless ass. We need to leave before the mongrels arrive. They'll have felt the magic surge and come to investigate. Nikolos too, I think. I want you long hidden before that happens."
"Arianie's Chosen is here?" a new voice interrupted. Female. Strong and authoritative. "Gisell said a woman—Ah! The temple. It's been purified. Oh gentle goddess, it's whole again!"
Not until the woman was all but standing on top of them could Jill see her. Tall and robust, a stern looking face, but not unkind. She was almost as tall as Aden and there were heavy streaks of gray in her auburn hair. Her crescent moon tattoo had faded with time and age, but it was still clearly visible at her right temple. Her gaze passed over Aden, then to Jill. A look of wonder turned her expression into something less harsh. Then her eyes went reluctantly from Jill, back to Aden.
"I wish there could be time for talk now, but there isn't. Hide her, my lord Shey'na'shen. Keep her as safe as you can. As beautiful as Arianie's Chosen has made this place, we need to flee or risk our lives and betray her. The sorcerer and the mongrels will be here soon."
Aden nodded in complete understanding.
"No!" Jill cried. She struggled in Aden's grip, as if fighting him might somehow help or make her feel better. "I never meant to put anyone in danger. You shouldn't have to leave!"
The woman reached out and brushed a hand along Jill's hairline, smoothing her hair as if she were a child. The soothing hand calmed her and she sagged in Aden's hold. "Oh my lady. What you're done here...It is right. You've no idea how glorious it is to see you."
"But I've ruined your lives! Everyone is at risk now because of me."
"No so, my lady. Not so at all. You've brought life back here, and you've brought hope. Even if this temple is destroyed, the enemy will know a power is rising to sweep them away and their days are limited. My name is Lysandra and know that we will watch over you for as long as we can. Keep safe. We will meet again when the opportunity permits. Now go!"
Aden didn't have to be told twice. His arms tightened around Jill's waist and together, the two of them half-hobbled, half-raced from the temple. She wanted to fight him and stay to argue with Lysandra, but it seemed like too much work. She felt bone-tired and every muscle ached as if she'd run for miles. And without her wards, red threads danced in every direction as far as the eye could see. They brushed against her, giving little jolts of unwanted power.
As they left the temple, her feet couldn't seem to hit the ground properly. She kept stumbling over every uneven stone, tall blade of grass, and strong gust of wind. Outside itself was a cold, painful shock as if her body couldn't hold onto its own heat. Whatever she, or Arianie, had done to cleanse the temple had drained her energy to almost nothing.
Getting down the hill and back into Shaar was hell on earth. She fell more than walked with Aden struggling to carry most of her weight. All she wanted to do was lie down, close her eyes, and sleep forever. Aden wouldn't let her, instead cajoling and forcing her onward until she wanted to cry with frustration at him.
"The carriage is gone," Jill stated dully at the bottom. Or, it looked gone. Shaar was blurry and bright to her eyes, the images slightly fuzzy and all shot through with threads. The sounds were also slightly muffled with an underwater sounding quality.
"Jill, where are your shoes?" she heard Aden ask from a million miles away.
"Uh oh."
She must have fainted then because the sounds of laughter and shouting were the next things she heard. At least her wards were back, as tight and constraining as they were before the temple. Not seeing threads was a welcome relief, but she was being jostled so roughly, she still felt sick.
Her head bumped against something hard and uncomfortable—a shoulder, she saw when she opened her eyes. A quick look up. Aden, his expression grim and determined as if his face was carved in stone. He was carrying her and jogging down the street at the same time. No wonder everything felt so jerky. She caught a glimpse of rundown, dilapidated buildings and it looked like they might be near the safe house.
"Aden?" she whispered. "Where are we going?"
"Safe house," he confirmed in between panting breaths.
"Put me down. You're exhausted. I can walk."
"No, you can't. Be there soon."
She wasn't sure what she might have said next—maybe protested harder—because then she saw the man.
She caught him as Aden jogged by. He stood on a dimly lit, screened-in front porch of one of the better-kept houses on the street. A woman clung to each arm, but he was looking outwards rather than at the women—which actually seemed a little bit rude. Aden took them close enough that Jill could see his bored expression change to shock and hear him utter a vulgar streak of profanity. Fascinated, she continued watching over Aden's shoulder as he shook off the women, staggered drunkenly down the porch's three front steps, and tripped at the bottom. He got momentarily tangled in his cloak before he righted himself. He swore again, sprinted a few paces until he was able to reach out and catch Aden's shoulder, spinning them both around.
Then, "Aden, what are you doing with Jill?"
And now Jill understood her fascination. Standing there in the moonlight with his arms crossed over his chest and scowling, was Brexten.