But Emral Lanear spoke, ‘You may be surprised, then, priest. Words alone have ushered in civil war, after all, and our fates now reside in the words soon to be spoken, either here or in the Citadel.’
Offering up a second shrug, Endest Silann said nothing. Then he nudged his horse to the crest, and once there he halted the beast and let drop the reins. He began unfolding the strips of cloth binding his hands.
‘What are you doing?’ Lanear demanded.
‘I am showing her the field of battle,’ Endest answered without turning.
‘Why?’
‘To see winter’s end, High Priestess. The unsullied snow of the basin. The empty slopes, the unoccupied ridges. The muted blessing of a simple breeze. The world delivers its own gifts.’ He held up and out his hands, from which blood now dripped. ‘It is our common flaw to make the wondrous familiar, and the familiar a thing bound in the tangled wire of contempt.’
‘You would torture her,’ accused Lanear.
Endest slowly lowered his hands. ‘Her?’ he asked.
They watched him wrap up his hands once more. It was more difficult now, with all the blood that had streamed down from the wounds. Herat was thankful that the priest had not turned those crimson eyes upon him. She would see too much. My goddess, witness to my guilt.
Lanear looked up the track. ‘If Cedorpul should catch up with Silchas Ruin …’
‘Pray,’ said Rise Herat, ‘he cuts him down for his temerity.’
At that, Endest Silann twisted in his saddle to regard the historian. Then he nodded. ‘I see.’
‘Do you?’ Herat asked.
‘Yes. You will lay her out on the altar of her love, and make a knife of your unwelcome cock.’ He raised his hands again, now bound, now blind. ‘She will never forgive him.’
‘Better him than thousands,’ Lanear said, but her onyx skin was ashen.
Endest faced her, and then bowed. ‘Alas, High Priestess, for all your machinations, he won’t be the only man to fall. Her will is not to be scorned.’
The warning chilled Rise Herat, while Lanear looked away to make plain her dismissal. ‘Endest Silann,’ she said, sighing again. ‘Your name is cursed in the city’s markets. Your misguided blessings summoned a dragon. And people went hungry for a time. The very faith of Mother Dark sustained damage in the eyes of the commonfolk, and her blessing has been seen to fade among more than a few of them. You have made yourself an unwelcome prophet, and accordingly, I know not what to do with you, barring a diminishment of your rank in the priesthood.’ She fixed her gaze upon him. ‘You are an acolyte once more, sir. With a difficult path to redemption awaiting you. Indeed, it may prove impossible for a mortal man to achieve.’
If she sought to sting, his sudden laugh crushed that hope. He bowed again. ‘As you will, High Priestess. Then, by your leave, I will return to the Wise City, seeking the glimmer of its namesake.’
‘Do not expect to be welcome to council,’ she said in a hiss.
He smiled. ‘But I never have been, High Priestess. Still, I take your meaning and will abide by it. I embark on a welcome return to being forgotten and, indeed, beneath notice.’ Fumbling at t
he reins, he managed to pull his horse back on to the track, where he set off at a slow trot.
Neither the historian nor the High Priestess spoke for a time, and yet neither seemed eager to begin the return journey. Finally, Lanear said, ‘If Cedorpul proves his power, he will be most useful in opposing Syntara and Hunn Raal.’
‘Then you had best mend that bridge and be the first to cross,’ Herat said.
‘I shall bribe him with privilege.’
The historian nodded. ‘Among tactics, nothing else proves as successful. Feed his vanity, make costly his ire.’
‘Such efforts would fail with Endest Silann.’
‘Yes.’
‘He remains dangerous.’
‘Indeed. While Mother Dark continues to make use of him.’
‘I will think on what to do about that,’ she said, drawing out a clay pipe and a pouch: rustleaf mixed with something else.