The words sent a shock of cold and fear through her. She swallowed, finding her mouth suddenly dry. There was no point denying it. Sa-Gest and Izare had witnessed it. One might lie to save her, the other to ruin her.
“Yes,” she croaked.
“How did you learn to use it? Speak slowly.”
It was good finally to be able to tell the whole story. Everyone must know that her intentions, though foolish, had been good. So she described the old woman who had baited her when she stumbled upon Stain. Then she told how the inspections had spurred her to risk returning, in the hope that if she helped the priests find the corrupter the artisans might be left in peace. Sa-Elem listened silently as she described meeting the old woman again, the directions, the scarf seller who did not appear to know what she was a part of, and then how she had been ready to give up.
“But then she was there, behind me. I had nothing useful to tell you, and I feared that if I ran away she would know I’d tried to find her and use magic on me. So I played along and went into her cart.”
“A cart?” Sa-Elem interrupted. “Tell me about this cart.”
Rielle described it, the scribe priest writing quickly. “I can draw it, if you wish. I can draw the corrupter, too.”
Sa-Elem looked at his companion, then down at the book. The scribe’s eyebrows rose and he shook his head slightly.
“We will bring you paper later,” Sa-Elem decided. “Tell us what transpired in the cart.”
“I pretended to want a way to prevent conceiving, thinking that she would tell me how to do something before or after … it was needed. She asked if I was already pregnant and grabbed my stomach, and I … it was so quick. I felt pain and she told me she had cut something inside me.” Rielle flinched as she remembered. “I would have to learn magic to fix it. So I…” Her throat stiffened, refusing to let her admit it.
“You did,” Sa-Elem finished. “Because you wanted to undo what she had done.”
“Yes.” Rielle frowned. “Actually, no. At the time I was too afraid of her to refuse.”
“Yet you did try to repair the damage later.”
Rielle looked down. “Yes.”
“Why?”
She sighed. “There were … so many reasons. It would have brought Izare and my family together and made them co-operate.”
“And you wanted a child.”
She looked up at him in surprise. “No.”
“So you did want a way to avoid conception?”
She frowned. “Well, if there was a way to do it without using magic or making myself sick I would have tried it. It would make sense to wait until Izare and I had more money and were on good terms with my family before having children.”
The other priest glanced up from his writing. “Did you succeed in undoing what she had done to you?”
Surprised by his sudden interest, she turned to look at him. “I don’t know. I was trying to find out this morning. She said that looking inside myself didn’t use magic.”
“So it was accidental?” he asked after recording her answer.
“Yes.”
“This morning was the third time you used magic,” Sa-Elem pointed out.
She turned back to him and nodded.
“The garbage pit was the second, when you tried to heal yourself,” he guessed.
She nodded again.
He drew in a deep breath, and let it out, his lips thinning as he exchanged a look with the scribe. Her spine tingled. Their looks suggested there was significance to this, and it wasn’t good.
“Anything else?” he asked the man.
The scribe nodded and turned to Rielle. “For how long have you been able to see Stain?”
A shiver ran down her spine. Would the answer harm her family? Though seeing Stain wasn’t a crime, families were supposed to report if a member had the ability. It was a law many ignored, however.
“Since I was a child,” she told them.
“Can you be more precise?”
She bowed her head. “It was after the funeral procession of Sa-Imnu.”
The scribe drew in a quick breath, and the two men exchanged another look. This time they looked more surprised than grim. The scribe looked down and resumed writing quickly, while Sa-Elem returned his attention to her.
“Have you used magic other than these three times?”
“No.”
“Have you seen the corrupter since?”
“No.”
“Did anybody other than the corrupter and yourself know you had learned magic?”
“No.”
“Do you know anybody other than the corrupter who has used magic?”
“No.”
“Did anybody other than yourself know you could see Stain?”
She winced. “My aunt.” Sorry, Narmah, but someone must have taught me not to react to it. Angels, please let her not be punished too severely.
“Not your parents?” Sa-Elem asked.
“No.”
His eyebrows rose in disbelief.
“Narmah felt the fewer who knew the better.”
“Is there anything else you wish to tell us?”
She paused to consider. Only Sa-Gest’s threats remained unspoken of.
“What will happen to me?” she asked.
“That hasn’t been decided.”
“But it’s likely I’ll be sent away.”
“It is.”
“Where?”
“We can’t tell you that.”
She nodded, then bowed her head.
“However, it will not be for some days,” Sa-Elem warned. “If you need any … basic necessities for a woman, you may request them of your guard.”
Rielle felt her face warm. To ask a man – a priest – to bring her such things would be humiliating. But she needed them and she’d rather ask the guard, or anyone else, than Sa-Gest.
At a signal from Sa-Elem, the scribe packed up his book and writing instruments and stood. Sa-Elem returned the chair to its former position. Rielle watched them leave, telling herself that they wouldn’t believe her if she told them of Sa-Gest’s threats. Though if there was no chance they would, why did he feel the need to threaten her?
What if they did believe her? She doubted priests were given harsh punishments. He’d still find a way to harm Izare and her family.
She hung her head. Without her around, Sa-Gest would have no reason to cause them trouble. It seemed the best thing she could do for Izare now was to go far, far away.
CHAPTER 18
Not all of the necessities Rielle requested were provided. At first she thought the list had been too long for the young priest to remember, but when further requests for bedding, soap and a change of clothes were ignored she understood that what they considered necessities did not match her own.
They did supply her with rags, water and a bucket that smelled faintly of the leavings of a previous user. She worked out how to keep herself clean and relieve herself without undressing, her back turned to the young guard and the older priest who took the day shift – Sa-Gest did not return. The narrow bench was her bed. Meals were a humble bowl of broth, bread, or stewed grains – probably the same fare priests ate during their times of isolation and prayer. She counted the days by the meals, as she suspected that the cycle of lying awake worrying followed by exhausted sleep she’d fallen into did not match the rising and setting of the sun.
Sa-Elem returned once, with his scribe, to give her paper and chalk to draw the corrupter and to ask a few more questions.
“When did you meet the corrupter?”
“The day Sa-Baro told my family I was visiting Izare,” she told him.
“The day you left them,” he observed, nodding. “Before or after?”
“Before.”
She’d watched him turn to leave, her drawing in his hands, a thousand questions crowding behind her tongue. None she thought he would, or could, answer. But she had to try.
“Can you tell me anything?” she finally blurte
d out.
He looked back. “A few more days.”
Another two quarterdays passed before he returned. A different priest accompanied him. The way they moved, all efficient and tense, suggested something was about to happen. Her heart began to race with a sickening anticipation.
“It’s time for your examination,” Sa-Elem said, confirming what her instincts had told her. “As always, those who were closest to you will be questioned, but due to your family’s status and co-operation we have agreed to hold it in private.”
The thought of being subjected to scrutiny before a crowd of strangers had made her stomach clench. Gratitude and relief did little to ease the nausea, however. She wanted her story and reasons to be known, and to see her family and Izare again, but the price for that was to face them. To feel their disappointment and anger. But I would pay that price ten times over if it meant seeing Izare again.
Sa-Elem unlocked the door and indicated that she should follow him. Her guard and the other priest walked close behind as they made their way through the passages beneath the temple. She felt all too conscious that she hadn’t run a comb through her hair or changed her clothes in several days, and probably smelled like it. The journey did not take long. Sa-Elem stopped at a door and opened it, then ushered her inside.
Her first impression was that she was in another cell. A simple metal lattice stretching from floor to ceiling caged her into the corner of a large room, shaped and furnished in a way similar to the public hall of a small temple. Rows of wooden seats filled the main space, with an aisle between. In place of windows were rows of oil lamps, and where the priest ordinarily stood to address the gathering a long table and five chairs had been placed.
At the table sat three priests: the head priest of Fyre, Sa-Koml, Sa-Baro and a priest she had never seen before. The rest of the hall was empty. For now.
She hadn’t realised it was possible to feel exposed and trapped at the same time.
“Stay away from the bars and remain silent unless addressed,” Sa-Elem instructed, then closed the door.
She looked at the priests again. Sa-Baro had been watching her, but he looked away as she turned towards them. Sa-Koml’s attention was on the papers before him. The stranger had also been watching her, but he turned away as Sa-Baro murmured something.
As he did, she saw that his face was marked on the left side by a scar, and she shivered as she realised she had seen him before. He’d been with Sa-Elem and Sa-Gest when her abductor had been paraded through and out of the city.
He will be the one taking me away, she guessed. He was the youngest one there, though many years senior to Sa-Gest. She could not help trying to read something of him from his face and manner. Would he be harsh, kind or indifferent towards her? His posture did not hold the tension of the other two, but then it was not a citizen of his city and a former student of his temple being judged. If dealing with tainted was his role he’d be used to attending examinations. She took comfort in his demeanour being neither menacing nor forbidding. Though if he were sympathetic she would feel unworthy of it. Indifference would be easiest to endure.
The sound of an opening door made her heart skip, but it was not the main doors. Sa-Elem and the scribe priest entered from a door at the other corner of the room. They joined the others at the table and Sa-Elem, after speaking quietly, picked up a bell and rang it. All looked towards the far end of the room.
One of the large entry doors opened, admitting three people. Rielle felt her heart sink as her parents and Narmah took in the room, the five priests and the cage. It was hard to see their faces, and by the time they drew near enough for her to see them their expressions were composed. They stopped before the priests. Only Narmah’s gaze shifted towards Rielle, though she kept her head facing the table.
“Ens Lazuli, Ers Lazuli and Ers Gabela,” Sa-Elem began. “You have been summoned here to assist our examination of the circumstances surrounding the tainting of Ais Rielle Lazuli. We are not here to judge her. She has already admitted to the crimes of learning and using magic. Have you all read the transcript of our conversation?”
“Yes,” they replied in unison. The scribe’s pen made a single scratch on the page of his record book.
“Was there any part of it that you believe to be false?”
Rielle’s father glanced at her mother and aunt, who shook their heads.
“No.”
“So, Ers Gabela, you admit to knowing that Rielle could sense Stain from a young age, and that you concealed this fact?”
Narmah bowed her head. “I do.”
“Why did you do so?”
“I … I knew her mother had plans for her to marry well. Her ability would have made that impossible.”
“Not impossible,” Sa-Elem corrected. “Only if it had been publicly known would it have influenced her prospects. That is why we conceal the identity of those who possess the ability.”
Narmah looked up, her eyes wide with surprise and horror. “I didn’t know.”
“Your distrust and ignorance are unfortunate,” he told her, but his tone was mild. “Your fear of society’s prejudices is understandable, and since your family has not sacrificed a son to the temple you do not have the benefit of his guidance. We have discussed this and decided that no malice was intended. The loss of a niece you were fond of is punishment enough.”
Rielle winced. Sacrificing a son to the temple was a glorified way of saying a family member had chosen to become a priest, and since most priests were related to the city’s great families, Sa-Elem had essentially pointed out her family’s lesser status.
“She is leaving Fyre to live with her son.”
Catching her breath, Rielle moved a little closer to the bars. Her mother’s voice had been hard and cold. Narmah’s expression was pinched, and her gaze lowered to the floor. Anger stirred within Rielle. By punishing Narmah, her parents suggested that they blamed her for Rielle’s mistakes. At least she gets to see cousin Ari. Rielle’s heart shrank a little. Who I will never see again. Or my brother. What will they think when they hear—
“Do you have any information to add to this examination?” Sa-Elem asked.
Rielle’s parents exchanged a glance then shook their heads, but Narmah’s chest rose as she took a deep breath.
“We were going to meet with her,” she said. “She wanted to come home. She knew we were willing to consider her choice of husband.”
“I know,” Sa-Elem told her. “Sa-Baro was assisting you,” he reminded her.
She shook her head. “Something must have forced her to do it. Why else would she risk everything?”
A short silence followed, in which Sa-Elem regarded her without speaking, perhaps only so she felt she had been listened to. Then he looked at his fellow priests, who shook their heads.
“That will be all,” he said, turning back.
As her family turned to leave, Rielle’s stomach sank. Narmah paused and looked back at her niece, her expression open and anxious. Then she jerked away. Rielle saw her mother’s hand on Narmah’s arm, guiding and pulling. She watched her family walk away and disappear somewhere beyond the hall’s main doors.
The bell rang again. Rielle watched, holding her breath, but the three who entered next were dye workers. People she had known all her life. People whose children she had played with when she was young. Unlike her family, they stared at her, showing curiosity, disgust and even fear. Sa-Elem asked if they had suspected anything. They replied that they had not.
Her heart beat quickly as she watched them leave. Three more people answered the next ring of the bell. She felt a shock as she recognised them.
As Tareme, Bayla and Famire walked to the front of the hall they stared openly at Rielle, but their expressions were not what she expected. Tareme’s mouth opened in shock as she saw Rielle and Bayla’s eyes widened. Famire wore a haughty smile, but as Rielle stared back at her, the girl’s smirk looked forced and unconvincing.
Sa-Elem’s introduction and q
uestions were the same. Tareme and Bayla responded honestly. Famire agreed that she had never suspected Rielle of having the ability to sense Stain, but said she later came to wonder if she could. When Sa-Elem asked her to elaborate, she looked at the other girls pointedly. The priest sent the twins away.
Once alone, Famire sighed. “I heard that Stain had been found near the courtyard where Aos Saffre lived. I was curious. It had been years since I’d seen any, and I wanted to know if I still could. Of course, it would have been rude not to drop in on my old friend Rielle. As you know, it was while I was there that I sensed the Stain in their house.”
A shot of cold pierced Rielle’s body. She can see Stain! But it was followed by anger. Not at Famire’s admission that she had reported the Stain in Izare’s house. It was the lie that she’d visited them out of social obligation and friendship. She hasn’t told them she was there for a portrait.
Rielle opened her mouth. The need to speak the truth welled up like an irresistible force inside her.
But if I tell them, what will happen to Izare? He would lose the commission. She closed her mouth. I doubt Famire will return for him to finish her portrait anyway. She can’t afford to be seen with someone known to be so close to a tainted, especially if she can see Stain. She drew in a breath to speak then stopped again. But as long as nobody knows about the portrait she won’t dare ask Izare to give back the first half of the commission.
She let out a sigh. Famire’s lie would at least protect Izare. And the truth will do me no good.
Rielle barely heard the rest of Sa-Elem’s questions or Famire’s replies. First Sa-Gest’s threat, then Famire’s true purpose for visiting Izare: how many more facts would she have to conceal that she’d rather were known? So much for being free from the burden of secrets.
A bell rang out and she jumped. Looking between the bars of her cage, she saw that Famire had left and another three people were entering the room. At once her gaze fixed on the central figure. Even at a distance, with low lighting, she knew him. His walk, though not his usual relaxed stride, was so familiar.
His head turned towards her and did not move away. She saw his lips move. The person to his left hooked fingers around his arm. The one to his right placed a hand on his shoulder. Somehow she registered that the first was Jonare and the second Errek, but she could not tear her eyes from Izare.