For a long time all was silent. Nirel longed to shift out of the uncomfortable position. Her throat grew dry and ached for cool water to sooth it. But she didn’t budge. All her life Kabos had taught her to be still whenever he required it, and enforced his orders with pain until she learned the necessary discipline. Her recent training in hunting with Shonika had reinforced her skill. She could remain unmoving all night, if that’s what this Elder required to earn his approval.
She estimated that less than half an hour had passed, however, when Semanel murmured a soft phrase she couldn’t catch and raised his head. Kabos didn’t move, so Nirel didn’t either.
Semanel took a deep breath. “My son, I want to hear how you came to the Faith. Our legends say that a group of us left these shores long ago to settle across the sea. Do their descendants still dwell there?”
“Only a few, Elder,” Kabos answered after Nirel translated. “We’re among the last. Most have fallen away from the Faith. As have I.” He kept his head bowed, refusing to look at the Elder. “I’m not worthy to be in the presence of the sacred scrolls. I’ve violated too many of the Ordinances. Nothing can cleanse my transgressions.”
“That’s not for you to decide.” Semanel’s voice was stern. “I’ll need a full account before I can judge whether the Lord of Justice must reject you, or whether with sufficient penance you can again earn his favor. If you wish to seek reinstatement you must do as I say and answer my questions.”
Kabos jerked his head up when he heard Nirel’s translation of Semanel’s words. For a moment he stared at the old man. Then he crumpled again, even lower. “Yes, Elder,” he whispered.
“Now, tell me everything you know about the history of your people.” Semanel sat back on his heels and regarded Kabos expectantly. Nirel lifted her head to watch him.
Kabos kept his eyes focused on the rug in front of his knees. “My father told me our people came to Tevenar many centuries ago, at the same time as the wizards. We fled the persecution we had always endured from the followers of the Lady of Mercy.”
Semanel snorted. “Little has changed. Powers rise and fall, but always the Faithful are outnumbered by those who scorn the truth.” His eyes narrowed, and he put his head to the side. “Wizards?”
“Yes, Elder. They wield the corrupt power the Lord’s sister grants them. Is it true none remain here?”
“Indeed. The Lord’s great triumph over his sister was removing her power from the world, rendering those who wielded it powerless. But there was always the fear that a few had escaped into exile.” He paused a moment. “So what we’ve heard since your ship arrived is true? The power of the Lady of Mercy still exists in your land across the sea?
“It does. I’ve seen it with my own eyes and felt its foul touch.”
Semanel reared back as if struck. “They used their power on you?”
Kabos cowered even lower. “Yes, Elder. To hold me captive. I told you, I’m not worthy—”
“And I told you, only an Elder can judge that.” Semanel breathed hard for a moment. “Only to hold you captive, from without? Not within your body?”
Nirel stumbled over the translation. The wizard Elkan and his donkey familiar hadn’t healed Kabos of any wound, only wrapped their golden light around him to arrest his movement. But the soft warm light had caressed her buttocks and sunk into her skin, healing the welts the switch had left when Kabos had punished her. She remembered the tingling sensation clearly. Semanel looked at her sharply as she forced out the rest of his words.
“No, Elder. Only to keep me bound.” Kabos did not look at Nirel.
“Good. Good.” Semanel nodded, fixing his eyes in turn on each of them. “That much can be purged, though it won’t be easy for you. But the Ordinances require that any whose body has been invaded by the Lady’s power be cast out without hope of return. No Elder has needed to enforce that rule since the wizards’ power vanished, but it still binds me. If I should learn that either of you had been so invaded, I would be required to refuse you admittance to the Faith. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Elder. I understand.” Semanel watched Nirel closely as she echoed Kabos’s words in Ramunnan. She felt sure he understood that she was speaking for herself as well.
Anger blazed in her heart. She hadn’t wanted the wizard to heal her! He hadn’t asked, or given her the chance to refuse. Now, because of his actions, she was barred forever from her father’s faith. Even though Elder Semanel had practically ordered her to lie about it. She wouldn’t let him find out, of course, not after he’d made it so clear he didn’t want to know. But she would always know. And the Lord of Justice, if he truly existed, would know as well. Did she want to believe in a deity who would condemn her for something she’d had no control over? Or in one who was willing to wink at his own laws when they were inconvenient?
“Now that’s clear, let’s continue. Go on, my son.”
Semanel listened as Kabos related the rest of the history of the Faithful in Tevenar. Nirel soaked up the knowledge as she translated. Her ancestors had at first established an independent colony far north of the wizards’ settlement. But hardship had beset them at every turn, and they’d been forced to relocate close enough to trade with their neighbors. The mountains had provided a more hospitable home, and for generations they had maintained the Faith, though their numbers had suffered gradual attrition. The final blow had come when Kabos’s grandfather was a young man. An illness had swept across Tevenar. The wizards had failed to contain its spread, for it could pass from person to person for several days before symptoms appeared. Those Faithful who contracted it either refused healing and died, or accepted healing and were exiled from the community. Only a handful of families in the most isolated mountain farms had escaped.
“The last of our Elders perished before he could pass on the sacred knowledge to a successor. So those of my parents’ generation and mine grew up without proper instruction, though the others taught us as best they could. I know that doesn’t excuse my straying—”
“No, but it does explain it.” Semanel waved Kabos silent. “I accept your sincere desire to return to the true Faith. I’ll listen to your confession and assign the appropriate penance. But that’s a private matter, not for any ears but yours and mine, not even your daughter’s. And it will take many hours, probably over multiple sessions. It’s much too late to begin tonight.”
“As you wish, Elder. I’ll do whatever you require.” Nirel still couldn’t get used to her father submitting so completely to another’s authority. Although it was just the sort of submission he’d always required to his own, so perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised that he offered it to someone he considered his superior.
Semanel smiled. “And you, my daughter. Do you wish to seek of your own will to follow the Lord of Justice and learn of his Faith? You’re of the age when even our children who have been raised in the Faith can no longer rely on their parents’ Faith, but must claim it for themselves.”
The question caught Nirel off guard. She did want to learn more. Something about the close quiet space with its swirling vibrant patterns and calm center spoke to her in a way nothing she’d ever heard about the Mother did. Semanel had a grounded, certain authority she instinctively responded to. She thought of the generations of her ancestors, remaining true through centuries of persecution, facing exile and death so that she could receive the Faith they so ardently believed in. Did it matter that she’d have to conceal a trivial bit of her past? Semanel had made it clear he’d accept her anyway, as long as she kept that moment secret.
Still, she held back from committing. “My mother wasn’t one of the Faithful. Does that make a difference?”
Semanel glanced at Kabos, who nodded after Nirel repeated her words in their own language. “Only a little. Your course of instruction will be a bit longer, though not the rigorous course required of a convert with no Faithful ancestry. The Trials of body and mind and spirit are the same for everyone.”
Nirel swallowed. “Trials?”
“You’ll learn about them in the course of your study. As long as your Faith is true, you need not fear. The Lord of Justice will sustain you.”
Maybe she’d fail, then, if the Lord of Justice truly considered that being healed by a wizard made her unworthy. Nirel put her shoulders back. She could pass any test they gave her without help from anyone, human or otherwise. “All right. Yes. I want to learn about the Faith. I want to be one of the Faithful.”
Semanel smiled at her, though she thought she saw something rueful in his eyes. “The Lord of Justice accepts you as a candidate for his favor, my daughter. From this moment he will watch everything you do to determine whether you’re worthy for him to welcome into his family. His demands aren’t easy, but you’ll find his favor worth anything required to earn it.”
Nirel bowed her head. “Yes, Elder.”
Kabos cleared his throat. “Do you know of a place within this quarter where we may find lodging? When the Matriarch learns of our Faith, we’ll be required to remain here, as the rest of you are.”
Nirel gulped, thinking of Kevessa. She’d feel betrayed when Nirel didn’t return. They’d been looking forward to the ball, when Kevessa would introduce Nirel to her friends, and Nirel would show off how well she’d learned Ramunnan customs.
Semanel cocked his head, studying them. “Don’t be so hasty, my son. The Lord of Justice doesn’t require our isolation. That’s a human law, forced on us by his enemies. As long as you’re able to keep your identities secret, do so. It’s valuable to us to have as many of our members as are able conceal their heritage and move freely outside the walls. You’re already high in the Matriarch’s favor. The more influence you can gain, the more help you can be to our cause.”
Nirel’s heart leaped. Maybe she wouldn’t have to give up Kevessa’s friendship, or the other things she’d come to value about Ramunna, after all.
Kabos frowned when she relayed Semanel’s words. “If you’re sure that’s acceptable.”
“More than acceptable, my son. It would be a great service to the Lord of Justice.”
Still Kabos seemed uncertain. “Please, we know so little about this land. What do you mean, our cause?”
Semanel glanced toward the panel of drapery through which they’d entered. He dropped his voice so low Nirel had to strain to hear. “Someday we’ll no longer be slaves to the unbelievers. We’ll live under our own laws, in our own land. We’ll keep the wealth we earn by the Lord’s blessing, not surrender it to their greed. We’ll be free, not penned within walls like captive beasts that can be slaughtered at whim.” He hesitated while Nirel caught up with the translation. She kept her voice just as quiet as his. “I’ll need to confer with the other Elders, and we’ll have to meditate and pray on the matter, but I feel your coming may be a sign from the Lord of Justice. Perhaps the time is finally at hand when the seeds planted and nurtured over generations will at last bear fruit. Your influence with the Matriarch may be the final thing we need to give our plans a chance of success.”
Nirel stared at the Elder. Kabos nodded gravely. Semanel was silent for a moment, looking at them with distant, shadowed eyes. After a moment he shook his head. “But even if that’s the case, it’s a matter for the future. Only after you’ve completed your journey into the Lord’s favor will you need to concern yourself with such things. For now, give yourself over to the road. It will be long and arduous and require your undivided devotion.”
Kabos bowed his head. “Yes, Elder. We will. When do you wish us to come to you for the sessions you spoke of? It will be difficult to leave the palace without attracting attention.”
“You’ll be living in the village to the north soon, yes?” Semanel’s face went grave. A rush of grief and anger swept Nirel as she remembered the bound captives being carried off to the Matriarch’s dungeon. Those were her people, now. It might be her ripped from her home or cast into prison someday, if the Matriarch ever discovered the commitment she’d made tonight. At Kabos’s wordless nod, Semanel went on. “Once you’re there, it will be easy for you to come here without drawing notice. I’ll give you material to study between now and then.”
He turned to Nirel. “Come. It’s close enough to midnight I can show you the first of your lessons.”
He rose. Nirel climbed to her feet, her legs numb from kneeling so long. Painful prickling swept them, and she rubbed her thighs. Semanel waited patiently until she could stumble after him.
He led her to the white hanging. “Do you read Ramunnan as well as you speak it, my daughter?”
Nirel blushed. “No, Elder.” She must have Kevessa teach her the Ramunnan letters as soon as possible.
“Let me read this to you, then. It’s today’s Ordinance. Or yesterday’s, rather, for now it’s time for me to put it away until its day comes again. There’s one Ordinance for every day of the year. Of course we obey all of them every day, but we give special study and meditation to each as its turn comes. You’ll be required to learn them all before your Trials.” He traced the lines, his fingers hovering just above the surface of the snowy white fabric. “‘If you have food, and one among you has none, so that he be tempted to steal lest he die, you must divide your food with him, so that you both may live and remain pure. If he nevertheless should take more than his just portion, cast him out from the Faithful, for he is a thief.’”
Semanel folded his hands across his breast and bowed low before the hanging. Then, with slow, reverent motions, he lifted the length of fabric from the hooks supporting the wooden rod at its top and rolled it carefully around the one attached to the lower end. He wrapped the scroll with a shiny black cord and tied the ends in an elaborate knot.
Below where the scroll had hung sat a wooden chest, as tall as Nirel’s knees and as wide as her outstretched arms, carved with geometric patterns echoing the ones woven into the draperies. Semanel raised the lid. Inside, the chest was divided into ranks and columns of square compartments, each containing a scroll like the one the Elder held. He slid the scroll into the single empty space, and extracted another from the space beside it. “This is the Ordinance for the day that’s beginning,” Semanel said as he closed the lid of the chest. With practiced movements he untied the new scroll’s knot and unrolled it to reveal a rectangle of snowy fabric identical to the other except for the words embroidered on its surface. He set it in place on the brackets and repeated his deep bow. “We thank you, Lord of Justice, for the gift of your Ordinances, which guide us day by day in your righteous path.”