I staggered back. Sam caught me, arms tight around my waist.
“Is that Meuric?” His tone was incredulous, and the microphone dropped it all across the market field. People rushed like colliding waves, many away from Meuric’s decaying body, and even more toward because they couldn’t see the horror; they’d only heard Sam’s words.
Meuric did not move by his own power. Merton carried him, while Deborl made a show of assistance. Other Councilors rushed in, though I couldn’t guess their intentions. They wanted to help him? Keep people away?
“Where’s a medic?” Sam leaned toward the microphone. “Rin, we need you on the stairs.”
“Don’t bother.” Deborl shoved his way to the microphone. “Meuric isn’t going to live. His bones have been shattered. His eye was carved out. He’s been starving for months.”
“How is he still alive?” Councilor Frase scrambled up the steps, gaping at the mess on Meuric’s clothes and the way his body drooped. “Oh, Janan. Give mercy!” At the top of the steps, Frase bent over and threw up.
I gagged on the miasma of decay and vomit, backing toward the columns and piano like they could save me. Sam turned gray, trying vainly to hide my eyes, as though I hadn’t seen this before in the smothering quiet of the temple.
Screams crescendoed as Merton positioned Meuric’s fading body where everyone could see it. The crowd pushed around to the front of the steps, leaving tents and stalls untended. Shouts of disgust rang out.
Deborl spoke into the microphone and motioned at Meuric. “This is what the newsoul has done. She obtained a key to the temple, to our temple, and took Meuric inside, where she all but killed him. To mock Janan, she left him there, broken. I know such beliefs have fallen out of favor, but Meuric was once called Janan’s Hallow. And to leave him there in this state is one of the highest insults.”
The screams became cacophony, deafening. Sam grabbed my hand and tried to pull me toward the Councilhouse, but I felt like stone. I couldn’t look away from Meuric, and from Deborl, because he was right. I had left Meuric there. I’d stabbed him, kicked him into the pit, and then abandoned him. And even when I found him in the temple again, I did nothing.
“Ana!” Sam yanked me, and I stumbled into his chest. “Come on. We have to go.”
Go where? But I followed, glancing back to see Meuric crumple to the stage. His head lolled, and as Deborl raged and the crowd surged, I caught one last look at Meuric: the black rot between his teeth when he grinned at me, and the awareness fading from his good eye as he finally died.
I ran with Sam, not sure there was anywhere safe to go, but it was better than watching this.
Sam reached for one of the glass doors, and just as it swung open, I saw the reflection of dozens of people pressing close behind me.
Someone grabbed my shoulders and ripped me away from Sam. I shouted and jerked my elbow behind me. Bone hit soft tissue—a stomach?—and I started back to Sam, but more people appeared.
Hands grabbed from every direction, taking my arms and shoulders and hair. They found Sam, too, and immediately I lost sight of him.
I struggled, but so many bodies created walls around me. I couldn’t get away as they push-dragged me somewhere I couldn’t see. Above everything, Deborl’s voice thundered.
“This is what newsouls do! This is what they will keep doing to us: killing us, destroying us, replacing us.”
The bodies blocking me moved aside, revealing me to the mob below. Tents had been thrown on their sides, tables knocked over. People pushed up the stairs, reaching.
I screamed for Sam, for Sarit or any of my friends. Where were Lidea and Geral with their newsouls? What would happen to them?
Someone kicked the backs of my legs and I dropped. Bone slammed on stone, and it felt like my knees shattered, but I could still move my toes. I blinked and breathed through dizziness.
“My friends,” Deborl cried, “we cannot accept newsouls. They will rip us apart. For her crimes, the newsoul will be punished.”
Cheering rose up. Someone shouted against it, but that voice was quickly silenced.
Fingers gouged into my skin, keeping me on the ground as Deborl approached. He leaned close, whispering into my ear. “You might have thought you could stop Janan. You can’t. Nothing can stop him. Meuric failed, but Janan has chosen a new Hallow. I will be the one who welcomes him when he ascends on Soul Night.” Deborl gripped my chin and yanked my face around. His eyes narrowed. “And you will be where you belong, trapped where you should have stayed before you were born.”
I tried to wrestle away from the people who held me, but they were too strong. Bruises formed under their fingers. I wanted to scream, to make some kind of response, but the noise and heat and rage overwhelmed me.