“But in this, I will hear you.”
Her head shot up. To her horror, she realized that she was sobbing. “You will?”
“Violence may be the sinew of authority, mortal. But power,true power, lies in the shadows.” Faragathe trailed a hand over the ruins they stood in, the remainder of a place that had once shaped the nation. “Let them see it,” she said to the night sky. “Let it drive them mad. I will stand behind you.”
Blood rushed in her ears, warmth spilling through hollows that life had carved in her chest and left to fester.So, this is joy. She bowed low. “My goddess,” her voice cracked, “from this day forth, I bind myself to you and only you.”
For the first time, something almost sad flickered in Faragathe’s many eyes. “Very well, mortal. To ancient history.”
She squeezed her still-bleeding palms. The blood spattered on the ground in a silent vow. “To ancient history.”
“Of the Dark Elsar, there remains none so beguiling as Lady Ruin. Her smile holdsthefulfillment of every desire. But as you close the distance, a trapdoor springs beneath your feet, and you are forever lost to the Dark Reaches.
People of Edessa, hasn’t she found us here? Unease foments in our city, and we know the source. Eight months ago, Head Tetrarch Aelius met his end at the hands of a northern girl. Despite his flaws, he should have been properly tried in a court of law. Instead, he was gutted in public like an animal. The girl and the madman she serves pronounced themselves judge, jury, and executioner and use the supposed Summoning of Lord Death to legitimize their dark deeds.
Now, omens plague our lands. Riots and plague in the crude north. A woman in crimson—Ruin’s preferred color—saunters about as Head Tetrarch. The madman is Magus Supreme, which also anoints him as Headmaster to the Academiae to oversee the education of our children!
Ruin has taken this land by coup. But there is hope. The Elsar ask us to resist evil. We rid ourselves of one woman who tried to govern us. We must do so again. Demand an Inquisitorial Hearing to bring these acolytes of Ruin to justice.
If they can lay claim to violence, so can we.”
—excerpt from a Cleric’s sermon in Aelius’s Quarter
Eighteenth day of the Month of Frost, eight months after the Great Unraveling
Most days, all Sarai saw was blood.
Its iron-rich tang trailed her from Edessan courtrooms to discreet bits of vigilantism to her dreams, where she, on occasion, still relived a night that had altered the course of her life. Then, eight months ago, had come a reckoning that had changed her future.
Today, the crowd bayed for blood too. This time, it was hers.
The Amphitheatrum Aequitas fenced her on all sides, stage and prison. Snowcapped white marble and intricate arches quaked with the tread of eager feet. A midwinter gust ruffled the tendrils escaping from her braid as spectators from Edessa and the most devout parts of Ur Dinyé jostled each other across the five tiers of seating in the land’s largest courthouse, angling for a better view. She hadn’t seen a more heavily attended trial than the Great Unraveling—the public’s term for her Summoning of Death and killing Aelius eight months ago. Of course, that was why she was here today.
Even if they refused to call it a trial.
“Silence!” A stentorian voice sliced through the crowd’s chatter. “This Inquisitorial Hearing is convened.”
Hearing.Sarai grit her teeth.Gods, the words they use to obfuscate a thing’s purpose.
A host of men emerged from the Petitors’ Entrance to the Aequitas, sporting beige and blue robes and an irritated mien at the subtle insult. Cassandane had politely but firmly refused them entrance through the main doors, though she couldn’t deny the Inquisitors access to the Tetrarchy’s seats.
The priests of the Elsarian Order, Ur Dinyé’s dominant religion, parted like a wave at the dais. Four Inquisitors took the Tetrarchy’s seats, dark blue–edged robes spilling against the marble like the waters of the Meridies Ocean. Master Cleric Linus and his Clerics fanned out theirlighter robes and arrayed themselves on the steps. The same ramrod-straight backs, the same sneer on all twenty faces.
She stilled when an Inquisitor openly raked her over with gray eyes. An odd, white veil shrouded the lower half of his face from philtrum to jaw, leaving his nose and gaze bare, but there was no mistaking his amusement. Her half-frozen hands curled into fists.
“Petitor Sarai of Arsamea,” Inquisitor Blasius, who had called for silence, surveyed her from behind his beard with the aplomb of a man who’d caught a rat in a trap. “Tibi gratias agofor coming.”
Not that I had a havïd choice. “I’m happy to make the time.”
Jeers rose from the white and silver banners waving from the eastern flank of the Aequitas. Aelius’s acolytes were out in full force to witness the verbal bloodsport they had demanded.
“Yes, there’s the matter of time.” Inquisitor Verentia cocked a dark eyebrow, her thin lips pursed. It wasn’t lost on Sarai that the only woman to have ascended the ranks of the Elsarian Order had taken the seat usually occupied by Cassandane. “Eight months for an Inquisitorial Hearing. An unprecedented delay.”
“Edessa had only two Tetrarchs until the Month of Seeding. My caseload was equally without precedent.”
“Remind me again, why we were missing two Tetrarchs?” Satisfaction radiated off Verentia when Sarai exhaled. “You threw the capital and thelandinto chaos. You can’t claim victimhood after the fact.
Sarai swallowed past the knot in her throat when the crowd roared their agreement. Why did this hurt? She was no stranger to dislike. The sour folk of Arsamea had made her youth a living hell. Aelius and Tullus had broken her body and left her seething at the wrong man for four years. Her dearest friend had delivered her into their hands. And the debacle with the scuta even before then certainly hadn’t endeared her to the public.
