Word

“If Malav can raise the dead, did the terms say he had to be alive?” Ivhir’s perceptive question kept coming back to mind. The man had been right. ‘Before Esus’ the terms said nothing about him being alive, the Holy Father had merely assumed.

Evening was sweeping in. This would be the second night Esus had neither returned nor sent word. The Holy Father had tried to invite Charyic to dine with him, Alok had declined the invitation. The healer had insisted it was best if she stayed in her room, she was being kept half asleep.

Isemal should know if Esus had fallen or not, but he was displeased that his Highest had parted the man from Charyic for so long and would not speak. The Holy Father couldn’t help but be displeased with his god in return but he tried to remind himself the gods did not see things the way that mortals did. Isemal saw disobedience in the order that parted Esus and Charyic, none had been intended, but that did not absolve him. The matter needed to be put right and the Holy Father had no way of doing so.

He was still brooding over the matter when his steward knocked urgently and entered without waiting for permission. The Holy Father looked askance at the man. “Word has arrived, Holy Father! A bird from Lallareth.”

The Holy Father rose in surprise, “He went to fetch his birds?”

“No. The message says only that Malav has two armies, living and dead, on the Oryr Road, and that Esus will return when he has news of the shrine. What shrine is he speaking of?”

Nodding in understanding, the Holy Father explained, “There is rumored to be a thieves’ shrine there. He’s chosen to gather the statues before he comes here, she must choose him in front of Esus and all of the gods.” Two armies. Living and dead. Malav was not going to leave anything to chance if it could be helped. “Send out every available man and woman to gather food and bring in all who will come. Tomorrow evening we seal the gates and keep them closed until we have no other choice.”

“It’s night, Holy Father, shouldn’t we wait until morning?” The steward protested.

Turning his sternest gaze on the man, the Holy Father watched him shrink back and then bow, “As you command.”

News that Esus yet lived needed to be brought to Charyic. The Holy Father swept through the halls that were now beginning to bustle as Light Bringers were woken and given their orders. He paused before the door, knocking would be wise before entering a woman’s chamber. He knocked and waited impatiently.

Ivhir answered the door with a baffled look. “Holy Father?”

Pushing past him, the Holy Father looked at the pitiful figure curled in the bed. “Wake her, Esus sent a message.”

Alok sighed and shook his head. “Is the message that he’s returning promptly?”

The Holy Father frowned. “No, but it proves that he is alive.”

“Is he doing something that will make her worry?” Alok returned the frown, not moving to wake the girl.

Charyic stirred on her own and asked softly, “What is he doing?”

“He left to scout out Malav’s position.” The Holy Father watched her sit up and look at him balefully. “He found Malav on the Oryr Road, he seems to be looking for a shrine. Esus intends to return with word of it.”

The girl closed her eyes for a moment before pushing back the blanket and climbing from the bed. “I need my knife.”

“You are not going to the Oryr Road.” Ivhir moved quickly to pick up her knife from the windowsill.

“I’m going to see Ayil.” The look she gave Ivhir was a shadow of the biting look the Holy Father had seen before.

“You need a bath and fresh clothes, and I would see you eat a meal before I let you go wandering the halls or off to the temple.” Alok’s tone brooked no argument.

“I would like to accompany you in the morning.” The Holy Father offered, it would help ease his guilt.

“You’ve done enough.” Charyic gave him a look of contempt.

“You will be respectful.” The room was silent at his words. The Holy Father had not intended his tone to be quite so sharp.

In a sickeningly sweet tone, Charyic spoke again, “You’ve done enough, your holiness.” Her green gold eyes glittered with anger, and he had the sudden feeling that if Ivhir did not have her knife she would be respectfully stabbing him with it.

“Fury is better than crippling worry and sadness.” Alok mused aloud. “I’ll have some bread and cheese sent up along with more soup. After that Ametel can take her to the baths.”

“Until he says otherwise or Esus returns I am confined to my room.” Charyic muttered.

The Holy Father sighed, “You are free to leave the room to go to the baths and the temple.” He looked at her pointedly. “I would like to go with you, please consider it.