“There are many children sent to temples in these days,” the woman said, settling beside him. “I know this. But you were not one. Your robes are new.”
“Observant.” He faced her now. “Have you come from the west? You must have seen my associates on the road. They left not an hour ago.”
“We did,” said the woman. “They offered prayers, directed us to this place, to pray before Ohirume… We sent them on their way.”
“Is that why you’re here?” he asked. “To pray? You may join me. I know I’m young, but I will aid in what I can. What troubles you?”
“On a night like this,” the woman said, “everything. Tell me, monk, do you believe in the cursed gods?”
He paused, considering. “There are many hungry spirits now,” he said at last, “searching for something to calm their wrath. Vengeful, bitter. Corrupted…”
The woman inclined her head. “Once, when I was young, I was sent to a temple in the northern islands, to the order of the sacred law. Just a child, alone. I was told to seek enlightenment. They said I was suffering.”
He held out his hands. “We all suffer, and we all have the elements of enlightenment inside us. Eventually, we may change.”
“Change,” mused the woman. “A funny word. Where were you, may I ask, in the recent wars?”
He grew still. “I was in the royal city.”
“You must have seen it, then. I saw many things myself. For a time, I too thought the Age of Plagues was upon us. I despaired. I fell ill. Then, one day, the wind changed. The tides were stayed. And when I woke, I could hear.”
“Hear what?”
“The other place.” She moved closer, reciting an ancient verse. “‘Waves, lapping onto the Awa shores, are still unchanged; while you are so very different than I remember.’” She gave the faintest sliver of a smile. “But such is life.”
“Do I know you?” the young monk asked.
“No,” she said. “But I know you. I have been with you every day of your life.”
He glanced at her, then away.
“I am troubled,” she said. “Such death and devastation in this world. War, rebellion, unrest. The clans and noble families. I fear the gods will punish us. I fear that I am… cursed.”
“The gods are kind,” he said. “They show compassion.”
“No,” she said. “It isforthe gods that I am cursed. I seek to end it.”
The spellwork writing became visible on her face as she lingered at the edge of the hearthlight. “You see,” she said, “I am their messenger.”
He blinked. “Who are you?”
“A ghost,” she said. “Like you. Remaining, and yet changed. I am brought unto this world at the will of the gods. I am their servant. Their… voice. I am here in search of sinners. There are so many on this road to hell… so many who wander the wastes of the world. And so must I wander, until I fulfill my purpose and bring their souls to justice. You see… then will my curse be ended, and I will become one of them.”
“One of who?”
“The gods.” She leaned forward, letting the light of the dim fire spill across her eyes. “They brought me back for a reason. I know, now, what that reason is.”
He tried to move, found himself pressed upon the opposite wall. The fire burned dim in the hearth. Each time she left a flicker of light, the strange, dark writing returned. “I am but a mirror,” she said. “A servant who walks the earth to correct a great and terrible wrong. The gods ask me, even now:Deliver us, they say.Deliver our divine punishment for the sins of the three.”
His breath caught at the words. “You need to leave.”
“I cannot, young prince. Not until my work is finished.”
“I’m not a prince.”
“But you are,” she said. “You are.”
“I have renounced that way.” He trembled. “I am a monk of the sacred law. My name is Joren…”
