Chapter 31


    Zaidna


    The Empire of Judath


    Bakavoth Palace


    What a pain in the ass.  Ravad watched glumly as Amaz, his most senior vizier, leapt from the dais to take his turn interrogating Entav, who was kneeling impassively in the center of the audience hall.  This was a poor start to the noble summit.


    “Your actions will not be excused this time!” Vizier Amaz screeched as he paced back and forth in front of his prey.  High chief wardens were usually responsible for interrogations in these hearings, but whenever Entav was the subject of an inquiry—which was disturbingly often—Amaz handled the task.  He was probably hoping that he had Entav by the sack this time.


    Entav aimed his eye directly up at Ravad, who knelt between Tashau and Angxa up on the circular dais.  “Those people attacked me and my men first.”


    “Continue,” Ravad said, ignoring the rumblings of unrest coming from the wardens and advisors clustered toward either side of the hall.  Of all the times for Entav to go and mash his foot in it, it had to be now.  The death of the Nassé and almost all of Judath’s candidates was not just a tragedy, but was also a colossal black eye for the empire, spreading for everyone to see.  That Entav had unwittingly started a riot in the disaster’s aftermath was just the glaze on the tart.


    “Actually,” the vizier corrected, circling Entav hungrily, “the bystanders all swear that you applied force to suppress them even before any attack was launched against you or your men.  Your position is to protect the people of this empire, not abuse them!”


    “You know that my daughter is a candidate who studies at the temple, Sun Emperor,” Entav explained, still willfully snubbing the vizier.  “When I got word that the Nassé was holding those girls hostage, I had to go immediately.  For all of them.”


    “What you did was take half your men without consulting the sun emperor, directly ignoring the star emperor’s request for increased security here at the palace!”


    “My daughter was in danger!” Entav snarled up at the vizier.  “And in the city, when I saw my girl being held up like a piece of meat by all those priests—there was only a moment for action, and we acted.  Without any casualties.”  He threw up his hands in a wide shrug, turning again to address Ravad.  “Emperor, what would you have done had it been your daughter?  I don’t think you would just be standing around like this withered old sack of—”


    “Enough!”  The vizier punctuated his shout with a stamp of his foot, before whirling around to hasten up the dais.  He dropped to his knees in front of Ravad and muttered through a rigid mouth, though loud enough for all to hear.  “Civilians have been injured and most of the high priests have been arrested when they committed no crime.  We must punish Chief Toredath this time.”


    Ravad swiped impatiently at the air.  “Let’s not be ruled solely by our emotions, shall we?  The priests attempted to declare a new Nassé without a vote or the sanction of the highest priests, we the emperors.  They also held High Chief Toredath’s daughter against her will.  I think some people would call that kidnapping.  So, I believe a night or two in a cell might do those overzealous priests a little good—at the very least it might teach them to respect our traditions, given to us by Naltena herself.  As for the rioting . . . .”  Ravad paused for a moment.  “Considering the circumstances, I withhold judgment.  We need High Chief Toredath in the coming weeks.”


    “Another pass,” the vizier wheezed, glaring witheringly at Ravad.  “But I must caution that—”


    Emperor Angxa suddenly cleared his throat beside Ravad, startling him and the vizier from their mounting debate.  “Perhaps Emperor Tashau finds Judath’s private affairs to be of interest, but this is a waste of my time and the time of my advisors.  If the warden here requires discipline, this is not the court to do so.  I want only to hear testimony from the witnesses of the incident in the Chamber of Dreaming.”


    Ravad waved for his vizier to piss off, which he did hastily.  “Very well, Angxa.  Entav, bring forward the first witness.”


    Entav rose and bowed, exiting the hall and returning a few moments later with a young girl in tow, who was clinging to his hand.  With minimal urging, she knelt at the foot of the dais and stared up at the trio of emperors with uncertain, swollen eyes.


    “I understand you lost a lot of friends today,” Ravad began, keeping his tone deliberately gentle.  “I’m very sorry for your loss.”


    The girl gulped visibly and nodded.


    “I know that this may be difficult for you, but can you explain to us why you were taken to the Chamber of Dreaming today?”


    The girl looked down at the floor.  “Um . . . this high priest asked us to go with him, so we did.  We thought the Nassé just wanted to meet us.  But instead she locked everybody inside and started screaming at us and hitting people with her whip.  I was so scared!  I don’t know what we did to make her so angry.”


    Ravad noted the girl’s bare arms and belly, the brown skin of which seemed whole.  “I see no injuries on you.  Did she harm you as well?”


    The girl quickly shook her head.  “No.  The Nassé was shouting for us to confess—to having nightmares!  She hit the ones who had them.  She grabbed me and tried to make me confess, too!  Except I’m not having any nightmares.”


    Ravad glanced over at Tashau, whose expression was severe.  Ravad had never been the most dutiful high priest, but he knew his religion well enough.  “It is understandable that you don’t have nightmares.  No candidate should.  But why would the Nassé accuse your classmates, who are also candidates?”


    “I don’t know, but they all confessed to it, even when she beat them anyways!” the girl explained.


    “Come, now,” Angxa drawled suddenly through his veil.  “If what you are saying is true, why are Judath’s candidates having these nightmares?  What were they doing to deserve such chastisement from Naltena herself?”  He leaned forward to peer down at the girl intensely.  “And what made you immune from such nightmares, child?”


    “The Nassé thought at first—thought that I was lying.  She told me that all daughters of the eighth house are ‘sullied.’  But I’m a daughter of the seventh house, even though I’m still a candidate.  She tested me with a naming crystal, but let me go after she made sure I wasn’t like the others.”


    Angxa leaned back, clearly unsatisfied, but without further questions.


    Ravad continued the inquiry.  “What happened after the beatings?”


    The girl was quiet for a long time, until a soft sob erupted from her throat.  At last she whispered, “The Nassé—she hugged everybody and—and said she forgave them.  And then she took the skylight and—she—”


    “She what?” Ravad pressed.


    “Enough of this, Ravad,” Angxa snapped, rendering the girl silent.  “Have we not tormented this poor child enough by making her relive this?  I think the answer is clear.  It would seem to me that Xinthi was merely weeding out the unworthy among Judath’s candidates.  One of them must have broken the skylight in order to keep their nightmares from being revealed.”


    “No!” the girl insisted through her sobs.  “The Nassé did it.  She was the one!”


    Angxa smirked through his veil in feigned contrition.  “Forgive my impudence, my dear.  A child as intelligent and world-wise as yourself would most certainly know a Nassé’s motivations for homicide.  Please, enlighten us all.”


    “But I saw her do it!  She reached up and—”


    “Of course you saw,” Angxa said.  “Unless you happen to still be in shock and can’t recall the facts as well as you think you do.  You are, after all, trembling considerably.”


    The girl sputtered at this, unable to respond.


    “Is this belligerence really necessary?” Ravad whispered through gritted teeth at Angxa.


    “Fine.  Dismiss her,” Angxa hissed in reply, completely ignoring the question.  What a malignant bastard.


    Ravad looked to his left, expecting that Tashau would be supportive, but he appeared to be lost in his own thoughts.  Ravad sighed and turned back to the girl.  “You may go.  Entav, escort her out and bring in our final witness.”  The girl leapt up gratefully and followed Entav out of the audience hall.


    Entav returned with his stick of a daughter, Kirin.  She shuffled to the foot of the dais, where she dropped to her knees and fully prostrated herself.


    “That’s enough,” Ravad called, waving for her to sit up.


    Kirin did as she was told, but looked just as nervous as the girl before her, even though she was several years older.


    “Nice to see you again, Candidate Kirin,” Ravad said with a pleasant smile.  “We are happy to see that you are still with us.  We understand that you had a few scares today.”


    Kirin fidgeted uncomfortably on her knees.


    “The purpose of this hearing is to determine who caused the death of the Nassé and your fellow candidates.  Can you tell us who brought down the skylight in the Chamber of Dreaming?”


    “It was Xinthi,” Kirin replied with no hesitation.  “She used a pattern to break the skylight.”


    Angxa immediately countered Kirin’s assertion.  “Why would our highest priestess do that?  A sanctioned seer and prophetess of the goddess has no reason to commit such a crime.”


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    Kirin cowered.  “No, Moon Emperor, but . . . Xinthi said that Naltena came to her and ordered her to punish the candidates.”


    Ravad was taken aback.  Why would Naltena demand the murder of all the candidates?  There were children mixed up with those women, and they didn’t deserve to die in such a way.  No, Naltena would never demand something like this.  Xinthi, that scheming bitch, must have been planning to use this “visitation” as a way to excuse the murders.  But then again, Xinthi must have known she would be killed as well by bringing down the skylight, unless she was laboring under some delusion that Naltena would shield her from the glass.  “If what you are saying is true, and the candidates required punishment, why death?”


    “Xinthi claimed . . . .”  Kirin hesitated, and Ravad could tell she was measuring her words with care.  “She claimed she was trying to stop the Dread God from being reborn.”


    Tashau seemed to jerk awake at the mention of the Dread God.  Ravad raised his hand to silence the swelling chorus of murmurs filling the hall.  “The Dread God Anoth?” Ravad asked.  “What does he have to do with any of this?  The Nassé ought to know better than to ever invoke his name.”


    “I know how it sounds, but she insisted that the candidates would be used to bring the Dread God back somehow.  I don’t know why—or how.”


    Ravad raised an eyebrow.  “And Xinthi told you she was trying to prevent this?”


    “Yes, she claimed she was commanded to, like I said.”


    Ravad sat back slightly, pressing his fist to his chin.  “Why would Xinthi make such a blasphemous claim?”


    “Maybe . . . she didn’t think she was blaspheming,” Kirin suggested timidly.


    “So, you believe her, Candidate Kirin?” Ravad asked.  “Do you believe the Dread God would have been reborn if Xinthi had not killed the candidates?”


    Again, Kirin was silent for a time, making an uncomfortable face.  “I don’t know.  Ordinarily, I wouldn’t question, but . . . .”


    “What makes you question now?” Ravad asked.


    “I don’t think she was in her right mind when she said what she did.”


    Angxa leapt at once to challenge that claim.  “So you think Xinthi was mad?”


    Kirin jerked, startled.  “Yes, maybe.  Xinthi was spitting and screaming at everybody like a wild animal—out in the sunlight totally uncovered.  She wasn’t behaving right.”


    “And you are familiar enough with Xinthi that you would know what is out of character for her?” Angxa condescended.  “Or I suppose a brown-skinned, sun-loving eshtan would be an expert on the nature of engstaxis.  Please, enlighten us.”


    “No, that’s not what I meant!” Kirin stammered.  “She didn’t act that way the last—the first time I met her.  I mean, she was a little unfriendly, but she wasn’t—”


    “You met with her before?” Ravad asked, surprised at this development.


    “Yes, I had a private audience with her this last spring,” Kirin mumbled.


    “Why?  You’re barely an acolyte.”


    Kirin looked to her father, who nodded at her.  “Xinthi had been having nightmares for several seasons, just like all those candidates she killed.  Because of my house, she taught me how to elucidate dreams and made me elucidate her nightmare.  She didn’t want any of the priestesses to know.”


    Angxa folded his arms and sat back.  Now he chose to be silent?


    “She made you do what?” Ravad asked sharply.


    “Elucidate.  I experienced her nightmare,” Kirin said.  “It was really bad.  I think the nightmare might be what drove her to madness.”


    “And how do we know that it was not a botched elucidation that caused her madness?” Angxa demanded.  “With all due respect to your high house, you are just an acolyte.  Proper elucidation requires years of training.”


    Kirin seemed shaken, but quickly regained her composure.  “No, she was fine after I elucidated for her.  But I couldn’t help her resolve the nightmare, so it must have kept recurring.”


    “What does this nightmare have to do with the Dread God?” Tashau asked, speaking up for the first time.


    “I don’t know exactly, Star Emperor,” Kirin answered.  “The Dread God . . . might have been present in it, but—”


    “In what way?”  Tashau was strangely focused on Kirin’s words.


    “In Xinthi’s nightmare he’s there, but only hiding—watching until he turns and leaves.  But in all those other nightmares the candidates confessed to, he appears in different forms and kills them in different ways, over and over again.  I don’t know that he is literally the Dread God for sure—he could represent something else—but I know that he’s evil, and he’s in the dreams of all daughters of the eighth house!”


    Ravad furrowed his brow, thinking at once of Tirbeth and her strange requests.


    Kirin’s voice faded to almost a whisper as she hung her head and mumbled, “I’ve—I’ve been having nightmares, too.  The man is there, and he kills me every night.”


    “You contradict yourself, then!” Angxa challenged.  “You are a daughter of the ninth house, not the eighth.  If you and those candidates were having nightmares, as you claim, your worthiness, not your houses, is the cause.”


    “You’re wrong!” Kirin shouted, immediately falling silent as wrathful growls erupted from Angxa’s advisors.  “Moon Emperor,” Kirin continued more softly.  “I don’t know why the nightmares are affecting me as well; there aren’t any other daughters of the ninth house to compare to.  All I know is that the same man is at the center of every nightmare, including Xinthi’s.”


    “Our doctrine is very clear on the nature of nightmares,” Tashau said impatiently.  “Nightmares are meant only to help us self-correct.  A Nassé cannot have them because she cannot dream on her own behalf.  If Xinthi had been having nightmares, it would have kept her from fulfilling her calling.  Naltena would never allow it.  Your explanation makes no sense.”


    Ravad thought to Xinthi’s empty dream chronicle.  Tashau did not yet know about it, probably having been en route to the noble summit when the summons to the high priests was sent out.  But it began to make more sense that Xinthi intentionally withheld her nightmares, refusing to have them recorded until they were resolved.  If Naltena had actually appeared to her, it would have been to let her know that she was an unworthy prophetess.  Or perhaps the whole thing was a lie.  Maybe Xinthi’s declaration about the Dread God was simply the excuse she needed to eliminate any competition.  Ravad would not put it past one so spiteful.  But if that were true, why kill herself as well?


    Angxa leaned forward.  “Even that so many candidates would have nightmares by no fault of their own is contrary to our doctrine, Candidate Kirin.  It is not possible that the root cause is the Dread God; he is long dead!  Or do you imply that this gospel truth is false as well?  Xinthi was a worthy prophetess—worthy enough to meet and speak with Naltena in the flesh.  If she killed the candidates, it was her sacred duty.”


    “Come on, now!” Ravad snapped, finally losing his patience.  “Xinthi was not a legitimate prophetess, and you know it!”


    Tashau stared at him in surprise.  “What’s this?”


    Ravad hesitated for a moment.  He wasn’t thrilled about having to reveal the truth about Xinthi in front of an entire hall of non-priests.  “When I met with Xinthi last, I discovered that no entries had been made in her dream chronicle since last fall.  Had she been having visions as she should . . . the attack leveled against you might have been thwarted in time, Tashau.”


    “What?  Why was I not told?” Tashau demanded.


    “I only discovered it after the attempt on your life,” Ravad explained.  “Word was sent for the high priests of Chalei and Xeshun to travel to Judath and convene on sanctions against Xinthi, but it must have missed you.  At the time, I thought Xinthi was ill or withholding her visions on purpose.  Now it seems clear that she lost her ability to dream on our behalf the moment she began to have nightmares.  I believe Candidate Kirin.”


    “But her nightmare was on your behalf!” Kirin blurted out.  Ravad arched an eyebrow at her.  “Well, at least the star emperor’s.  It sounded like Xinthi managed to interpret those symbols from her nightmare, and I saw them.  They weren’t just nonsense; that attack on the star empress where she was taken—it was there in the nightmare.  I saw her in it!”


    Tashau sat forward, his eyes ablaze.


    “I don’t know why Xinthi didn’t act earlier,” Kirin continued.  “I think she was really concerned about having nightmares at all.  But I think she would have done something earlier had she realized what it all meant.  We are wrong about nightmares; our doctrine is wrong.  Naltena was trying to—”


    “Enough of this nonsense!” Angxa snarled, slamming his hands down on his knees.  “Our doctrine has been received from the goddess herself and cannot be flawed!  For all we know this is nothing more than some pretty fabrication you’ve concocted to keep us from suspecting that you brought down the skylight.”


    “There is another witness,” Ravad interceded.  “Two, once that high priest wakes.”


    “This is a daughter of the ninth house.”  Angxa pointed at Kirin maliciously.  “How do we know that she didn’t tangle their psyches—alter their thoughts?  She is having nightmares like the other candidates, after all.  She ought to be dead as well!”


    Kirin flinched as though Angxa had slapped her, and then slowly dissolved into pitiful sobs.  “I didn’t kill anybody!  I lied to Xinthi and told her I wasn’t having any nightmares.  She believed me!”


    “But of course you lied,” Angxa said, the venom lacing his tongue only serving to make Kirin more frantic.


    “I’m telling the truth!” Kirin screamed, turning at once to look up at Ravad.  “Xinthi really was trying to kill everybody who had nightmares!”


    “Will you continue to believe this girl?” Angxa asked.  “Surely, Emperor Tashau, you have no bias.”


    Tashau was silent.


    “It isn’t just me,” Kirin continued.  “That man in our nightmares—Anoth—whoever it is—he’s in other nightmares as well—girls outside of the clergy.  I’ve seen him with my own eyes in the nightmares of High Princess Tirbeth and Western Princess Anji.”


    Ravad shot a glance to his western king, who stood among the nobles off to the side.  He didn’t look happy.


    “You saw them?”  Angxa leapt to his feet.  “You elucidated for the high princess of Judath?  You would dare to elucidate for any high princess?”


    “Y-yes,” Kirin whispered, her eyes as wide as saucers.


    “Stupid girl!” Angxa roared.  “There is a reason why only the Nassé may elucidate for an emperor and those of his household!  One broken thread of thought—one—is all it takes to drive a person to insanity or death!”


    Ravad rubbed at his brow, swearing vehemently and repeatedly under his breath.  He knew the consequences.


    “I’m sorry!” Kirin yelped.  She fell low, pressing her torso to the floor.  “Xinthi refused to elucidate for Tirbeth or Anji.  They were both sick and desperate.  They begged me!  I felt I couldn’t refuse such high nobles, and—and I just wanted them to like me.  Sun Emperor, I’m so sorry!  I’ll accept whatever punishment you feel is necessary!”


    Ravad drew his hand from his brow.  This was the very last thing he wanted, but he couldn’t just ignore it.  Angxa had already pointed out the obvious.  “Do you know that endangering the life of an emperor’s child is punishable by death?”


    The blood drained from Kirin’s face as a halting rasp rattled from her lips.


    Entav immediately rushed forward and fell to his knees before the dais.  “Emperor, she’s just a child!”


    Ravad opened his mouth to speak, but Tashau gripped his shoulder and whispered, “Whatever she may have done, you cannot have her executed, at least not yet.  If Xinthi’s nightmare was prophetic, the symbols must be recorded and fully interpreted.  Candidate Kirin is the only one alive who can do so.”


    Ravad breathed an inward sigh of relief.  Angxa might have passed out death sentences with all the ease of throwing candy to children, but for Ravad to do the same, especially to Entav’s daughter—it wasn’t for him.  “I concede.  Kirin Toredath, I will spare your life, so long as you are honest and reveal all of the symbols of Xinthi’s nightmare to us.  But you cannot go unpunished.  You are to be lashed ten times for each elucidation you performed upon my daughter and the western princess of Judath.”


    Kirin grimaced, but nodded.  To her side, Entav bowed his head in gratitude.


    “You are quite merciful, Emperor Ravad,” Angxa muttered. “I hope we will not regret your decision.”


    Ravad stood up, and Tashau followed to join him and Angxa.  Ravad raised his arms in a broad motion of dismissal.  “We are adjourned.  Kirin Toredath will accompany us to my study.  We will proceed with this in private.”


    Kirin glanced desperately toward her father, who nodded to her and left her in the center of the hall.


    Ravad tromped wearily down the dais and extended his hand, which Kirin accepted as he helped her to her feet.  He and Tirbeth would need to have a very long talk when all of this was over.  “Well, let’s hope you have a good memory, Kirin.  Come with us.”