A terrible fate, one Sarra had deftly avoided.
“Dreadful,” she said, her eyes fixing on the body. She did not want Saad to miss the significance of what had transpired. “There is your sign, Saad. The sun did not bow. Never before, never in three millennia, has the sun failed to dim. Can you not see what is happening on the streets? Mithra gives shelter to those who do His bidding. He did not want the true Mother to stand on the wall. He wanted her safe. He always wants her safe,” said Sarra. It was a lie, but that didn’t matter. She had predicted the impossible. She had known the sun would not darken and she was using that knowledge against him. “Mithra protects the Mother,” she continued, not wanting to stop, not wanting him to doubt her for a moment. “Can you say the same for yourself? Do you think he would spare your life? Did He come to you in the night, Saad?” She shook her head. “Or does He speak only to me? Can you not see the sign—do you not hear Mithra as He roars His disapproval?” The sound of the crowd was indeed defeating, and it was growing louder.
Saad scowled. He ran his teeth across his lip, turning the skin white. “I hear the people,” he said. He was studying the crowd, but his eyes kept darting to the wall, to the bloodstained body of Garia Asni. He was shaken—she had him.
Saad rubbed his scruffy chin. At last he said, “We will hang every last one of them.”
“You cannot hang every pilgrim in Solus—you’d run out of rope before you got started. Don’t you understand, Saad? You cannot fight the faithful,” Sarra said, meaning to make him think that she and her god had caused all of this, that the power of the faithful was greater than any army, more fearsome than any sword. In truth, there was hunger in the empire, a drought, a grain shortage, and a revolt at the Gate of Coronel. Everywhere there was unrest and it had boiled over into a seething riot. The failed eclipse was the spark that set the kindling ablaze, nothing more, but Sarra needed to make it appear as if her god had spoken.
“Feel their anger,” she said, “their rage.” She tightened her fingers and made a fist. Now she would make her final argument, she would hit him with his own aggression. “This is the beast you prod when you kill a priest on my doorstep,” Sarra cried. “From now on there shall be no more animosity between the army and the priesthood. Mithra-Sol commands this. Tell your soldiers to stand down.”
“What soldiers?” he asked.
She stood up straight, making herself taller than Saad. She raised her voice. “The soldiers at my temple. The men who followed me here. The ones who are no doubt preparing to assault my priests and take my seat.”
“Your seat?” he asked, trying to deny what he had done. Saad was wavering now; he was stuck somewhere between fear and anger. You’re just a pup, she thought, a rabid one, but a whelp nonetheless. You can be cowed.
She stared him down and refused to look away. Both of them coveted the Ray’s seat, but only one of them could have it.
After a long moment Saad shook his head. “Fear not, Mother. I’ll leave your temple and your priests in peace for now as I need my men to defend the city.” He pulled back from the rail and called to his men, told them to bring maps and to gather the captains of the city guard. He motioned to go, but she took him by the hand so he could not walk away.
“This is about far more than my temple and my priests. This is about respect, Saad. Did you think I would hurry home to Desouk when I saw a bit of blood on my floor?” she asked. Sarra needed him to know that he was wrong about her, that he had underestimated the Mother. “Do you think I am powerless, a woman who would cower at the sight of a sword? Iron is not the only weapon in the empire.” She glanced one last time at the spot where Garia had been standing until the crowd assaulted her. “It’s not hard to find yourself alone with the crowds teeming all around you.”
He pulled away from her grip, drew his ceremonial sword, and held it to her chest. The blade was bronze and the edge was blunted, but he could still skewer her if he struck with enough force. “Are you threatening the Father?” Saad asked.
“I think we are past the point of arguing about threats.”
“I make no threats, Mother. If I want someone dead, the deed is done,” he said, the sword held to her chest. The two were not alone, soldiers watched, as did her priests. Saad held the blade for the space of a breath. Perhaps he was taunting her, maybe he was deciding if he’d let her live.
But in the end, he turned and walked to where his soldiers had gathered around a table. He’s backing down. Saad slammed the sword into the table. He knew he had acted rashly when he struck down her priest, that he had made an error.
She made her way toward the stairs, motioning for her priests to follow. Her work was finished. It was time to go and she was almost out the door when Saad stopped her with a word. “Mother,” he said, his voice growing louder. “I will let you go. I have no more time for you,” said Saad. “But you should know this: My father told me never to trust a priest. I do not know what foreknowledge you posses. I cannot guess at its source, nor do I care to try, but take note of my words. Leave Solus and do not return until your duty demands it. I am no pilgrim. I will leave you in peace, but if you cross me there will be no tower for you to shelter within, no robe to protect you.”
Sarra bristled at the naked threat to her person. She was the Mother Priestess and she commanded the faithful. “There is no need for such discourtesy. I had always planned on leaving for Desouk this afternoon. May you share the sun’s fate,” she said, giving Saad the traditional farewell.
Sarra left the chamber at a measured pace, followed by Ott and Khai. She had done what she had come to do. She had put the boy in his place. He was still a threat, he’d try again to claim her mantle and put himself one step closer to the Ray’s, but at least she had brought herself a reprieve. He’s clumsy, she thought. The boy had revealed his intentions. Clumsy, but dangerous. She would need to be careful with Amen Saad.
When they were clear of Saad’s chamber and well outside of his hearing, Khai whispered to Sarra. “Mother,” he asked, descending the stair, “the crowds saw your body torn from the wall. They think you are dead.”
“Do not fear,” said Sarra. “When we reach Desouk and we are safe in the city of priests, I will announce my escape from the crowds: how Mithra’s hand led me through the angry hordes, how a kind peasant helped me to a cart, and a blind woman hid me from the crowds till the carriage was outside the city walls. The body they saw was not mine.” Sarra would have little trouble claiming she had survived the day. Already she had conjured up the false story her priests would spread throughout the kingdoms.