“Nothing,” The Heireia articulated, “in the Scripture speaks of a warning.”
“Her message is not entirely clear,” I said, “It’s like she’s trying to reach me through the Empty itself, and. . . and it’s fighting her at every turn.”
“What do you mean?” The Grand Cleric pressed.
“I feel something.” I said, lacing lies with the truth, “When I gaze into the abyss.Herpresence. And her grace allows me to step into the Empty and survive.”
One of the younger clerics rocketed from his chair. “You can survive the Empty?”
“Yes,” I said, raising my voice over the growing murmurs. “Just as the Bloodstone can.”
“I’ve seen it myself,” Eleos added.
The Heireia raised her chin. “Let’s test her, then. Shove her through and see if she disintegrates like all the rest.”
The younger priestess looked at her in horror. “But what if she speaks the truth? You’d dare disrespect the Maiden by doubting her envoy?”
“She doesn’t speak the truth.” The Heireia snapped.
Studying her wrinkles, I tried to remember what duties the Heireia attended. Did her word carry significant weight, or none?
An argument broke out again. Eleos glanced between everyone at the table, gaze falling on his father last. The Grand Cleric stared back, his steely gaze dropping from his son to me. As the cacophony grew to a boiling point, he slammed his fist on the table, shattering the noise into silence.
“Enough.” He shouted. “We have no reason to believe, or disbelieve her claims. They are to be treated with the delicacy they are due.” He stood straight, folding his hands before him. “She will remain here, under scrutiny. We will double our prayers and seek a sign. Heireia, send word to our brethren to ask their counsel.”
“Of course,” The Heireia said.
“Wait,” I interjected. “Can you afford to waste time praying? There’s a great many refugees out there who need help.”
“A problem for another day,” the Grand Cleric dismissed. “This requires our full attention.”
“Indeed.” The Heireia agreed. “Assign a guard rotation to watch her at all hours. One of us should stay with her. Monitor her.”
“My son will.” The Grand Cleric said. “As penance for his crimes, he will serve the Maiden’s chosen, or suffer alongside her should her heresy be revealed.”
* * *
The cracked stone bench resting beneath the orchard looked like a gift from the gods after such an excruciating day. Falling onto it, I rested my chin in my hands and stared despondently across the garden.
Eleos sat beside me, eyeing the guards who watched us from across the path. “Do you see now why I dislike the clergy?”
“A little,” I admitted. “How long will it take for a ‘sign from the gods’ to arrive?”
“Forever,” Eleos said quietly. “There are no gods. No one to answer them.”
I sat back, staring at him. “But I thought-”
“I believed there was magic connected to the Empty,” He lowered his voice so the guards couldn’t hear. “But I think the gods either never existed or abandoned us.”
I couldn’t claim to be pious, but I’d always believed in the gods. “Why?”
“Because gods worth worshiping wouldn’t let. . .” He trailed off, abruptly changing tone. “I came here often in my youth. It’s nostalgic to be back.”
Sitting back, I glanced at the guards. Speaking of heresy was probably a bad move, right about now. “It’s beautiful.”
Unripe fruit hung from the trees, their branches flecked with pastel flowers. Neatly trimmed grass grew around staggered stone pathways, circling fountains made of natural piled stones. I tucked my hands between my legs, resisting the urge to pluck the lilies growing around the bench.
They might be holy, after all.
