Judge (19 page)

Sitting on her pallet, Ela closed her eyes and walked the city in her vision. Parne’s citizens stared at her. By now it was known that Parne’s prophet had lost her cherished little sister. By now it was said that Ela of Parne was cursed—unable to protect one of the people she’d loved the most. Clearly the Infinite had abandoned her. Surely she was no one to be heeded.

Ela heard the whispers.

The lies.

Opening her eyes, Ela jammed her feet into a pair of old boots, swept the worn crimson mantle over her shoulders, and picked up the branch.

Kalme, face swollen from crying, looked up from her cushion where she was nursing Jess. “Where are you going?”

“Out with Matron Prill.”

“Your father will be home from prayers soon. What should I tell him?”

“I’m obeying the Infinite’s command. Stay inside, all of you. Don’t go up to the wall when Belaal arrives.”

“What?” Her voice rising in desperation, Kalme cried, “Ela . . . !” She shifted Jess and stood, looking so frantic that Ela crossed the room to soothe her.

“Mother.” Ela wrapped her arms around Kalme and Jess, hugging them both with all the warmth she could allow herself to feel. “I’ll be as safe as a prophet can ever be. Until then, rest and pray. And, please, tell Father my warning is serious. Don’t go up to the wall this morning.”

Kalme burst into tears. “You’re going to die! I’m losing both of my girls!”

The hairs lifted at the back of Ela’s neck. The Infinite once asked Mother to become His prophet. Could Kalme turn prophet even now? Suppressing the thought, Ela kissed her mother, scolding gently. “We both knew what it meant when I agreed to become
the Infinite’s prophet. I’m willing to face death, Mother. I
have
faced it. But today I’ll survive.”

“Give me your word!” Kalme clutched Ela so fiercely that Jess mewed in protest.

Ela nodded. “You have my word. Today I will survive.”

Others wouldn’t. But she wasn’t about to tell Mother so. Ela stepped outside into the morning light. Matron Prill’s home sat above the Roehs’, but farther back, and to the east, behind a modest alcove garden. Prill was already descending the steps, surefooted and quick, with a large basket on her arm. Ready for battle, Ela hoped.

Greeting her with a nod, Prill asked, “Marketplace first?”

“Yes. We’ll start there.”

And end on the wall.

 20 

S
ibilant hisses sliced through the air as Ela and Prill entered the marketplace. Prill muttered, “Someone’s offended that you’re not wearing mourning.”

“Quite a few someones. And they’re more than offended.” Ela watched a half-eaten pastry spatter near her feet, followed by a bit of dried fruit. “They wish me dead.” She nudged her short boot at the largest piece of pastry and watched the sweet delicacy crumble. A meat vendor laughed as one of his patrons cast greasy, gnawed poultry bones toward Ela’s face. She stepped back and watched the insulting tribute fall. Only a few nips of meat and skin remained on the carcass. “Within seven days the ones who threw these things will be longing to eat them.”

Almost serene behind her icy spiritual shield, Ela studied the faces of her accusers. The guilty ones looked away. Others, who’d evidently prepared additional missiles, lowered their hands as she eyed them.

“Why are we here?” Prill’s thin face turned strict, demanding an answer.

“You need supplies,” Ela said. “Buy as much as you can carry. And I’m waiting for Zade Chacen.”

“Chacen? Huh!” The matron looked near to spitting with contempt.

“His followers are now running to tell him and his sons I’m here—and that I’m a disgrace for my lack of mourning.”

A deep, stern voice beckoned. “Ela!”

Deuel, the spice merchant, motioned her toward him. Ela nudged her chaperone. “Buy everything you can carry, then hide it inside Deuel’s booth until our return.”

Shaking her topknotted head, Matron Prill stomped off.

“Ela,” Deuel chided as she approached. “What are all these stories I’ve been hearing of you?”

“You’ve heard a bit of truth mixed with a great deal of exaggeration.” Ela stared at the merchant’s small, keen eyes. “Deuel, you have been kind to my family in the past, despite your impatience with our ‘narrow’ views. I’m concerned for you—as is your Creator.”

“I’m surprised,” he admitted, his thick brows lifting, then knitting together. “After you broke that box I sold you, I doubted you’d speak to me again, much less be concerned.”

“Today you will either listen to me or ignore my advice. Belaal approaches. The Infinite will save you, if you call to Him. Meanwhile, close your booth today, and—”

“What!” Deuel snorted. “Close my booth?”

“The ‘prophet’ Tavek ignored my warnings,” Ela reminded the man. “I hope you listen. Share my counsel with others. Close your booth. Buy supplies and hide in your home. Now.”

Deuel bit at his lower lip, then asked, “Did you really turn Tavek to dust?”

“I didn’t. The Infinite did because Tavek would have destroyed others.”

“And little Tzana . . .”

“Rests with the Infinite. But I’m forbidden to mourn her departure.” Protected by her numbness, Ela forced out words. “You saw me with my sister often enough. You know I loved her. Believe me, I’m not scornful of tradition. My lack of sorrow is a sign to Parne. We’ll have no time to formally mourn after the siege.”

Silent, he organized his boxes and spices. Ela persisted, “Prove
the Infinite to yourself, Deuel. Give up on the Ateans. They’re a lure to the flesh that will cost you eternally if you ignore your Creator’s call—His love!”

His hands stilled. “How would you know of Atean rites? Did you attend a gathering?”

“No. The Infinite told me. And His word is enough.” Ela straightened, shifting the branch, seeing its iridescence, its inward light. “The Chacens are coming for me as we speak. Allow yourself a serious discussion with the Infinite. Now. Tell others what I’ve said.
Don’t
go up to the wall.”

She left his booth and surveyed the marketplace. Prill moved from vendor to vendor, lugging her basket with both arms, while a now-weighty cloth sack hung heavily from her shoulders. Obviously Prill was taking Ela’s advice and buying everything she could afford. Though there was far less food to buy today. As if answering a similar observation from one of his buyers, a grain merchant to Ela’s left declared cheerily, “We’ve received word through a courier. Our supplies will arrive any day now.”

Supplies from the traders, who’d gone to Istgard and Siphra. Ela shut her eyes, watching their approach in her vision.

Until someone jostled her and a light girlish voice said, “Why don’t you move on? You’re not wanted here.”

Ela steadied herself and looked at the voice’s source: a pretty young woman her own age. Beautifully clothed, with elaborately braided brown hair, showy goddess-coil ornaments, and artful face paint. An exquisite exterior, masking corruption within. “Go home,” Ela told her.

The painted face sneered, less lovely now. “I’m not the one causing trouble, Prophet.” As she spoke, the young woman glanced beyond Ela and her eyes brightened. Pouting provocatively, she swept past Ela and joined the Chacens, who now approached Ela—all three wearing swords. As if they expected her to fight. As if they hoped to win.

Zade Chacen brushed off the flirtatious young woman. Cold-eyed, fixated on Ela, he spoke, his resonant, dignified voice
carrying to all the booths. “You will come with us. We are bringing you to the courts, to be charged with Mikial Tavek’s murder.”

“You’ve finally summoned the courage?” Ela asked. “Or did you lose a draw of lots?”

The eldest Chacen grabbed Ela’s arm, digging his fingers in hard enough to leave bruises. Despite herself, Ela winced. Sius Chacen shoved her. “Cooperate and we’ll be merciful—a swift death rather than lingering torture.”

“The Infinite offers you true mercy,” Ela countered. “Even now, it’s not too late.”

Shifting his hand, Sius Chacen wrenched Ela’s braided hair, forcing her to look up at him. His scar, inflicted by the branch, showed black as ashes against his puffy, infected skin, marring his handsome face. “Do anything, try anything, and we’ll cut you to pieces!”

A pulsebeat of fear thudded behind Ela’s protective, emotionless barricade. Particularly as Sius slipped a dagger from beneath his cloak and pressed it against her ribs. Just a bit more pressure and he would draw blood. A bit more force and he would inflict a lethal wound. As she stared into his eyes, Ela saw his desire to cut out her heart.

Za’af closed in behind them, his swollen, hateful face mirroring his brother’s threat.

Matron Prill’s agitated voice summoned her attention from a distance. “Ela?”

“Stay near!” Ela called to her chaperone. “Prill, don’t run. Stay near as my witness. The Infinite will protect you!”

Zade snarled at Prill, “Don’t interfere, woman! We’re taking her to meet justice.”

Ela’s hidden pulsebeat quickened in terror. She prayed. Willed her fear to submerge once more. “If only you would listen! Even now your Creator longs for harmony with you—He loves you!”

High above them on the wall walk, the watchman signaled a warning blast with his trumpet as another man yelled, “Soldiers! An army! Seal the city!”

Wielding the branch and raising her voice to match the watchman’s, Ela cried, “Parne, you’ve been warned—Belaal approaches! Lock yourselves inside your homes!” To the Chacens, she said, “Belaal will capture Parne’s traders.”

Sius pulled away his dagger. Zade’s grip on her arm went slack. He looked around the marketplace at his fellow citizens, whose faces reflected his own shock. The watchman sent up another warning trumpet blare. A war call.

Gouging his fingers into Ela’s arm again, Zade shoved her toward the stairs nearest the wall walk. “Move! Hurry!”

“Zade, no! If you go up to the wall—”

He spoke through gritted teeth. “You’ve said enough! Move!”

Sius pressed his dagger into Ela’s side once more. “Go.”

“Remember my first day as prophet, Zade! Here is your calamity. Don’t go up to the wall!”

The dagger moved. Stinging. Making her gasp as it scratched through her clothes. Zade was dragging her now, adding his bellowed orders to the watchman’s call. “Parnians! Gather your weapons!”

“No!” Ela screamed over her shoulder at the marketplace while the Chacens dragged her up the stairs. “No weapons! Parnians, go to your homes and pray!”

Zade shook her. “You stupid girl! Shut up! If our enemy approaches, we have the right to defend ourselves! And we will show them we intend to fight!”

Thrown off balance, Ela slipped on a step and caught herself with the branch. Chacen yanked Ela to her feet again, then shoved her along.

Following them up to the wall walk, Matron Prill cried, “Ela, what should I do?”

“Prill, stay close!” Ela prayed for her chaperone and mourned for the Chacens. As well as for the other Parnians who were rushing up to the wall walk, against her warnings, brandishing their swords and bows and arrows. Infinite? Why won’t they listen?!

At the wall’s crest, beside the watchman’s stone shelter, Ela sucked in a breath.

From north to south, all along the mountains rimming its southern plains, Parne’s western fields teemed with approaching soldiers. Banners of gold and sapphire shone against the arid blue sky. And the midmorning sun reflected a harsh glare off the approaching soldiers’ shields.

As Zade Chacen and his sons stared, Ela said, “It’s not too late. Leave the wall and pray to the Infinite for mercy.”

“Traitor!” Sius accused, still squinting at the nearing army.

Za’af said, “We should throw you from the wall.”

Not yet, Ela pleaded to her Creator. Save me!

A form moved behind Ela, casting a shadow over her. Fingers touched the nape of her neck, making her shiver. Someone twisted her braid. To Ela’s left, Matron Prill scolded, “Amar, take your hands off her!”

Amar snapped, “Stop squawking, hen!” He leaned so close to Ela that she felt his breath against her cheek. “Not so courageous in the sunlight, are you, my love?”

Love. He’d failed there. “You’re brave now because you believe I’m defenseless.”

“Aren’t you?” Amar questioned.

Zade Chacen spoke, his voice low with dismay. “There are the traders with our supplies.”

A long line of horses and carts emerged from a stone pass in the northern borderlands which separated Parne from Istgard. Even as Ela recognized them, she saw the next fragment of her vision unfold. While the main army continued its relentless pace toward Parne’s walls, horsemen rode out from Belaal’s lines and charged the traders, surrounding them.

Zade called to the watchman, “Belaal’s taken our supplies! There’s no hope that we’ll retrieve them. Tell everyone below to
form a line and fill the Murder Maze with stones and mortar! Tear down homes for materials! Command it done!”

As the watchman elbowed his way through the crowd to issue Chacen’s orders, Amar asked, “How long can we hold off such an army?”

The former chief priest grimaced. “For as long as our food and water hold out. We’ll send courier birds to Istgard, the Tracelands, and Siphra requesting their help.”

“They will not come as allies, but in their own defense,” Ela warned.

Sius shook Ela. “Shouldn’t we just toss her from the wall and kill her?”

Zade ran one hand over his tensed brown face, seeming lost in thought as he stared at the army. “No.” He studied Ela now, suspicious, as if considering her poison. “Hasn’t Belaal’s army arrived as she said? I believe we should imprison her. She may yet be useful.”