“Mithra blesses the empire,” said Sarra, deciding that it would only make her look weak if she mentioned the dead man at the outset. “I am merely the conduit.”
Saad chortled between breaths. “So Mithra-Sol has commanded you to make a mockery of the Devouring?” he laughed again, a rattle somewhere deep in his belly. He was a skeptic, she guessed. The pilgrims had faith, but the educated—the viziers and generals, the scholars and scribes—no longer believed in Mithra’s light. They observed the rituals, but put no faith in their meaning. I must make a believer out of Saad, even if I myself have ceased to believe. Her victory would depend on it. The knowledge she had attained would only serve her if the Protector held some shred of faith.
“Do not worry, Saad. The Mother Priestess stands upon the wall,” she said, motioning for him to join her at the parapet. In truth, she did not know if her surrogate had yet reached the wall, but she would find out the truth soon enough. She covered her red locks with her cowl. Together they walked to the balcony and stared across the city, to the Shroud Wall. The noise from the cheering crowd was nearly intolerable. Her head throbbed, but she was relieved to see that Garia had reached her spot, a small balcony about halfway up the wall. Her priestess was dressed in full regalia, her arms raised to the sky.
Saad nodded at the sight of the white-robed priest. “What caused you to breach custom by letting a common priest do your work? Why are you here?”
“Be patient.”
“I am patient when I know what I am waiting for—care to enlighten me?” The scar on Saad’s face swelled when he spoke, and his cheeks reddened. How old was Saad when his father drew the blade across his skin—ten years? Was it even possible to intimidate a man raised by the cruel fist of Raden Saad? She would find out soon enough. When the sun reached its height, she would reveal what she knew.
Down below, among the people, drums beat loudly, their rhythm accelerating as the time of the eclipse approached. The noise jarred her nerves, making the room seem too bright, too hot. The boy, Khai, was shaking, uncertain of what to do. Ott was rocking back and forth.
“What’s wrong with him?” A soldier snapped, drawing his sword and moving toward Ott.
Sarra faced Saad and spoke again in the voice she used with the common people, the one dripping with belief, with power. “Tell your man to lower his blade.” The guard at Ott’s side hesitated. “Mithra Himself spoke to me,” she continued. “I’m here to share His wisdom, to reveal to you what He revealed to me.” She needed to prepare Saad for what would come next. She needed to make him believe.
“I’m not interested in your fairy stories, sheepherder, save your lies for your flock.”
Her voice softened once more into her real one. “It’s not a story, Saad. Mithra’s power is as real as the iron in your soldier’s grip.” She met his eyes, probing their depths. She’d had little time to prepare for this encounter. For the most part, she was making things up as she went, but she checked his face now and then, trying to ascertain whether he believed her. “I heard a voice. A whisper in the night. Mithra-Sol called to me in the darkness. I heard your name, Saad. Mithra-Sol spoke the name of the Protector. Go to Saad, He said. Go to Saad so that he may understand.” Her knees were trembling beneath her robe, but he could not see that. “Now watch and know that I am the wife of Mithra-Sol. His earthly ambassador. I am not your enemy, Saad. We are two rays cast from one sun. Come.”
She could see the hesitation in his eyes, the uncertainty. A part of him—a small, superstitious part—was wondering if maybe she were telling the truth, or so she hoped. Less than an hour ago, outside her temple, he had sent his soldiers to kill her priest. A warning. He wanted her to step down, to get out of his way. He wanted the Ray’s seat, but she wasn’t going to let him have it. The position was hers, as far as she was concerned, and she would fight him for it. She would fight him with the only weapons she had: knowledge and faith.
Saad stood and went with her to the parapet and gazed down upon the crowds of Solus once again. The drums stopped. The crowds pressed around the statues in the clearing. Her acolyte on the wall below held up The Book of the Last Day of the Year. The sun was at its high point, throwing the full weight of its heat upon the people of the empire.
The city held its breath.
“Watch. Mithra Himself warned me what would happen next,” said Sarra, knowing full well what was about to happen.
“What are you rattling on about?” Saad asked with a sniff.
Sarra pointed to the sky. “Something is about to happen that has not occurred in a very long time. When I spoke to Mithra, He promised me a sign. He wants you to understand His will. There is too much strife in the empire, too much death, too much suffering. The people will believe He has abandoned them, but you will know otherwise. Mithra-Sol demands peace between priest and protector, that whoever harms the Mother Priestess and her flock will himself come to harm. Watch and you will know that what I say is true.”
He cast her a doubting look, but she shook her head.
Watch.
9
So this is the First Ray of the Sun.
A man in a golden mask approached Ren. The disguise was carved with the likeness of Tolemy, but the face beneath was not the emperor’s. It was Suten Anu, the First Ray of the Sun, the one who was permitted to pass through the Shroud Wall and enter the sacred domain of the Soleri. Ren trembled a bit, but not from fear. His legs were still weak from the time he had spent in the lightwell. After Oren had called down to Ren, the priors had pulled him from the well, had bathed and fed him. They had tended to his burnt skin with ointments and fatty creams, scrubbing him from ass to ears. With dull scissors, the men had cut his hair and tried to make him look presentable, but there were black guts crammed beneath his fingernails and at every turn he feared he might collapse.
If they make me take another step I swear I’ll fall to my knees. He’d spent five days in a lightwell. It was the longest any ransom had stood and faced the Sun’s Justice. Surely the sun found me innocent? He had survived, after all. Though no one here seemed to care the least bit about what he had endured. I stood in that piss-soaked well for five days. The least they can do is to tell me I’m guiltless. For his part, Ren wanted desperately to forget about his time beneath the sun, but the burns on his shoulders and neck would remind him of his pain for weeks to come. The sun outside was already making his sunburnt skin itch.
The Ray was nearly upon him, his mask glowing like the sun itself. Oren stood at Ren’s side.
It was nearly noontime. The time of the Devouring had come. Suten had duties to perform. So why has he taken time out of his day to meet me? Ren wondered. Why aren’t I standing in the lightwell or rotting at the bottom of it?
“Bring the boy forward,” Suten said, his golden mask shifting as he spoke. “We must hurry.”