“What is that?” asked Adale, pointing.
“Oh, it’s noth—nothing, Crown Princess,” said the priestess, but the lie was clumsy in her mouth. “Please, come this way.”
“What’s behind those doors?” demanded Adale.
“It’s only unused rooms,” said the priestess. “Nobody’s been in there in an age.”
“But the marks on the doors—what do they mean?”
“It’s only the phases of the moon,” said the priestess, moving toward the opposite doors, the plain ones. “Don’t you want to look at the library?”
“Tell me what they mean,” said Adale. “That’s an order.”
The eyes of the priestess hardened, but Adale met her glare evenly.
“It is the mark of the Silence of the Moon,” said the priestess at last. “But there is no Silence of the Moon in Ioshora, and so the rooms stand empty.”
“What is the Silence of the Moon?” asked Adale.
“It is another way of worshipping Lady Talcia,” said the priestess. “Wholly unnecessary—the temple has always been enough.”
“If the temple is enough, why is there a room set aside for it in here?” countered Adale.
“The members of the Silence of the Moon dwelt in the wilds. They felt they were closer to Talcia that way. When they were called to Birsgen, the temple allowed them to stay here, out of respect for our shared devotion. But the Great Mother and the archpriestess frequently disagreed, and so the visits were never pleasant.” The priestess frowned. “But you have seen their marks before?”
Adale froze.
“You have seen the marks before,” repeated the priestess, but this time it wasn’t a question. There was a curious, calculating look in her eyes, and Adale could not allow this affront to Esofi’s honor to stand.
“I never touched her!” she protested.
“Is that what you think this is about?” said the priestess, eyeing Adale as though she were a particularly foolish child.
“What is it about, then?” asked Adale.
The priestess pressed her lips together and shrugged. Adale realized that there was no order she could give that could force the priestess to give a truthful answer, and pelting her with gold coins probably wouldn’t get her very far, either. She would have to try negotiating instead.
“If you tell me what you know,” said Adale, “I’ll tell you what I know about the princess.”
The priestess turned away and walked into the next room, gesturing for Adale to follow. As she shut the door behind them, Adale looked around. This was the library, not nearly as expansive as the one in the castle but still full of potential.
“Queen Gaelle of Rhodia is the Great Mother of the Silence of the Moon in Thiyra,” said the priestess in a very low voice, drawing Adale’s attention back to her. “She thinks that allows her to command the Temple of Talcia. And that may be the case in Rhodia, but it will not be so in Ieflaria. Princess Esofi may have brought magic back to our lands, but we only take orders from our archpriestess and our goddess.”
“Esofi isn’t like that,” protested Adale. “She doesn’t want to command the temple! She just wants to protect everyone from the dragons.”
The priestess didn’t look particularly convinced.
“I mean it,” said Adale. “She isn’t going to try to undermine you. She’s been nothing but respectful of the temple, hasn’t she?”
“That means nothing,” said the priestess. “You’ve seen how the Temple of Iolar struggles with the Order of the Sun. The Temple of Talcia is not nearly as strong. We could not withstand that sort of opposition.”
“Esofi isn’t going to oppose you,” insisted Adale. “And even if she was—which she’s not—but if she was, she wouldn’t have the kind of power that the Order of the Sun does. They’ve existed here for centuries. It takes time to build up that kind of influence from nothing.”
Still, the priestess was silent.
“And besides,” Adale went on, “Esofi—she—her mother—they don’t…they’re nothing alike. Even you can see that.”
“Perhaps,” granted the priestess, but she still sounded wary. She began to turn away, but Adale realized she had another question.
“Talcia’s worship,” she said. “Why did Ieflaria abandon it?”
The priestess looked a little surprised at the question. “Why do you think? It is extremely difficult to convince people to worship the one who brought monsters into the world.”
“But I thought the dragons only started attacking us after we lost our magic?” pressed Adale. “We were able to fight them before that.”
“The people of Ieflaria felt that, if they were pious, there was no reason they should ever need to fight dragons,” said the priestess. “Or so it was, back in the days your grandfather ruled. It was a slow thing, at first. Worshippers blamed Talcia when dragons attacked, and so the gifts of magic were not granted as often. Without new mages, the attacks worsened, and so did mistrust of Talcia. It is a cycle that must be broken if we are to survive.”
“I think someone already has broken it,” said Adale.
The priestess tilted her head in a half nod. “Perhaps. But now I will leave you to your reading. Try not to make a mess.”
“EMPEROR?” SAID ESOFI.
“That’s what they told me,” confirmed Adale.
It was just past noon, and Adale had somehow managed to convince Esofi to pause her training so that she could eat while Adale told her of her findings. She also had a pile of notes that she’d written at the temple, and now she sorted through them, trying to find the most useful bits of information.
“Were you able to find anything else about the emperor?” asked Esofi.
“No,” said Adale. “But I want to go back and take a closer look. Their library isn’t nearly as large as the one we have here, but the books are all more useful. I’m sure if anyone has written something down about the emperor, it’s in that temple.”
Esofi’s shoulders slouched, and she pressed one hand to the side of her face. “I wish I hadn’t killed him,” she whispered. “He could have told me…”
“Sorry, have you forgotten about the part where he was trying to kill you?” Adale interrupted. “If he’d wanted to live, he could have started off by talking, instead of flying around breathing fire at the city watch.”
“I know,” said Esofi, but she sounded no less miserable. “Still, killing them never troubled me. Why should it have? Farmers don’t worry when they eat a chicken. Guardsmen kill wild boars and bears for our protection. The royal huntsman brings carcasses for the castle cook, and he is proud of his work. I was no different from any of them.”
“You’re right, you’re not,” said Adale. “There was no cruelty in your heart when you killed them.”
“But all this time, I’ve been wrong. They weren’t animals, and I don’t even know how many of them I’ve slaughtered!”
“Esofi, you couldn’t have known,” said Adale. “In fact, it sounds like they’ve been doing it on purpose. What did the dragon say to you? He was following orders. Their emperor has forbidden them to speak to us.”
“But what could they stand to gain from that?” asked Esofi. “It defies reason.”
Adale shrugged. “I don’t know either. But I’m going to keep researching.”
Esofi gave a small smile. “You know, I never took you for an academic.”
“I know. My potential was squandered by tutors who insisted I study boring things,” said Adale. “For example. Did you know a dragon will shed its skin once every few years?”
Esofi laughed. “Yes, I did. They’re eerie when you find one intact.”
“See? And all my tutors wanted to talk about were wars and great-grandparents and what might happen if Emperor Ionnes gets bored of fighting with Masim.” Adale leaned back in her chair and sighed heavily. “He’s never going to, by the way. And even if he did, Ieflaria is too cold for him.”