Judge (23 page)

“I’ve packed lamps and some oil and wicks,” Kalme whispered, adjusting a basket slung from her elbow. “And we have all our food. There’s not much left. What will we do when it’s gone?”

“Mother, we mustn’t fret.” Ela shouldered one parcel, threaded her free arm through the straps of Father’s oldest knapsack, then grabbed the branch. She eyed Mother’s burden. Kalme had
rolled numerous garments into tight fabric cylinders and fitted them snugly into Jess’s emptied carrying pouch. After shifting the sagging pouch onto her back, Kalme tucked the dozing Jess into the crook of one arm. When she reached for a bundle of foodstuffs double-knotted within the Roehs’ largest coverlet, Ela grabbed it instead. “I’ll carry this. You’re holding Jess.”

“I’m not helpless,” Kalme argued.

“Neither am I.”

Father, loaded with tools and supplies, motioned to them from the doorway. Joined by Prill, they followed Dan through the small public square that fronted their home. Moonlight slanted silver-pale over the city’s white plastered edges, lending an appearance of false serenity to the night. Ela could almost pretend Parne was at peace, tranquil beneath the starry skies.

Abiyr Roeh’s family had long since quieted. Ela hoped they were sleeping. Her face still burned from Ranek’s blow. Not that it mattered. Worse would follow.

They crept through the silent marketplace. Near the heavily barricaded Murder Maze, Nesac and his wife stepped out from the shadows. Both were cloaked and holding all they could carry. Footsteps sounded nearby, muffled, yet rushed.

Deuel met them, shifting several large bundles and whispering, “I’ve begged others of the faithful to accompany me, but they’re frightened.”

“Perhaps we can help them later,” Ela murmured. She turned to Father. “Which way?”

Dan nodded them toward the oldest, least prosperous section of Parne, along its ancient southern wall. They crept through a labyrinth of old courtyards, worn street paths, and overgrown alcove gardens. At last Dan herded them inside a murky courtyard tucked against Parne’s southern wall and obscured by several other houses built above.

An overgrown tangle of parasitic plants and dead-limbed snags discouraged any thoughts of welcome. Musty heaps of leaves and weeds lumped beneath Ela’s feet. Nesac’s wife gasped and
Deuel grumbled as they ducked beneath a rustling curtain of dry vines. Kalme stifled a sneeze.

Finally, Dan halted before a sealed door.

Ela winced. A tomb house. They were taking refuge in a tomb house?

Matron Prill sucked in an audible breath. Mother protested softly, “Oh, Dan . . .”

“Trust me.”

While they waited in silence, Dan kindled a small taper with his flint and metal kit. Obviously comprehending his plans, Mother offered him a lamp. He lit the wick, then removed a slender chisel from his tools and slid it behind the seals, quietly loosening them. Finished, Dan stood. “Inside. Hurry, but don’t touch the seals. The sky will lighten soon.”

One by one, they eased through the doorway, cautious of the seals, which still lined the doorframe. Father stepped inside, shut the door, and carried the lamp to a far wall.

Dark-painted plaster had crumbled away from the wall, revealing pale ancient rockwork. Ela imagined she’d glimpsed a bit of the city’s skeleton through its decaying plaster-flesh. She shuddered.

Father slid a wider chisel along the wall, swiftly prying off more crumbling plaster.

He outlined the door traditional to most of Parne’s tombs, and shouldered it open. Dry cold air wafted from the room beyond. Dan exhaled. “Move inside. It’s safe, believe me.”

Prill spoke now, squeamish. “We’re staying in here? All of us in this one little tomb?”

“No.” He smiled at the matron, suddenly mischievous as a boy. “Tomb houses shelter more than corpses. I visited this place as a child, with my father. He had business dealings with the old man who rests here.”

Jess squeaked in the darkness, evidently waking up. Kalme set a kiss on her son’s small head. “Be patient.”

Lifting the lamp, Dan surveyed the inner chamber. Ela joined
her father and looked around at the rows of sarcophagi. Dan inspected the tombs, touching their sides. “One of these hides a stairway.”

Oh. Ela set down her parcels, keeping only the branch. “What are you looking for?”

“An air current. I remember feeling an air current from the false tomb.”

A false tomb? Ela copied her father’s motions, checking each sarcophagus. Deuel and Nesac joined their search. In the second-to-last row from the wall, a chill slid past Ela’s hands as she touched a tomb’s lid. “Father?”

The branch took fire, gleaming beside the false sarcophagus.

 24 

F
ather made no move to lift the sarcophagus lid. Instead, he knelt at the base of the tomb and pried at the narrow slab until a small door rasped open in the gloom. Soft-voiced, Dan exulted, “They thought I’d be too young to remember anything!”

Apparently not. Despite herself, Ela almost smiled. Trying to see, she held the shining branch near the small door, which shifted downward, shelflike.

Dan looked up at her. “Will you go first?”

No! “Why?”

“You’re carrying the prophet’s branch for light.”

Ela’s hands went cold and sweaty. Her mouth dried. Why did it have to be a tomb—even a false one? Was this where she would die? Infinite?

His answer was an unseen parental nudge.
Go.

“All right.” Offering inward prayers, she knelt, slid the branch through the narrow entry, and looked inside. Three stone steps led down into a tawny dirt tunnel, its rough walls clawed through by gnarled, moisture-seeking roots.

As she hesitated, Father nudged her. “Go.”

Augh! Yes, both of you! I’m going. She scooted into the tunnel feet-first.

Dan shoved his old knapsack after her, followed by the two bundles she’d been carrying. “Take your parcels.”

Balanced on the stone steps, Ela set the supplies in the dirt below. When she looked up again, Father was holding Jess. “Take him before he yells. Your mother’s next.”

Jess blinked at the branch and at Ela, then whimpered. She tucked the branch into the crook of her arm, then cuddled Jess close. He nuzzled at her, making noises of complaint. “Mother’s coming,” Ela promised. Jess squirmed, adorable despite being hungry. If only . . . Ela tried to force down the hopeless longing.

If only she could hold Kien’s baby.
Their
baby. No, no, no. She couldn’t torment herself with thoughts of what might have been.

Kalme was on the steps now, Jess’s heavy carrying sling in her hands. “I’ll trade you,” she told Ela. Jess squalled the instant she spoke, his patience clearly outdone by hunger. Ela kissed his tender cheek and gave him to Kalme.

As Kalme settled Jess beneath her mantle, Ella tried to pull her thoughts away from babies and Kien. She slung Father’s old knapsack over her shoulders, then juggled the remainder of their belongings and the branch and cleared the narrow steps.

Prill descended next. Then Nesac climbed down and helped his wife. Deuel passed his gear through the entry and scrambled after it. By the time Dan edged inside and pulled the slab door shut, they were crowded within the dirt walls, the men uncomfortably hunched down. As the designated lightkeeper, Ela moved farther into the darkness.

Her feet slipped a bit on the sloping yellow dirt path. After several turns, the walls were nothing but barren-looking rock and soil, too deep for roots to penetrate. She called back to Dan, “Did your father dig this tunnel?”

“Some of it,” Dan admitted. “In secret. But it was hard work, with little reward. And if the authorities had caught him, he would have suffered heavy fines for illegal digging. Which is why he gave it up in favor of repairing Parne’s walls. His old friend continued to dig down here until he was too crippled to proceed. It’s amazing they were never caught.”

As they walked on, Deuel asked, “Were they looking for gems?”

“Yes. But as I’ve said, they earned almost nothing.”

Bitterness lacing his words, Chief Priest Nesac said, “They had no chance of earning anything. The priests control the most profitable mines. Greed and self-indulgence have been their downfall.”

“You’ve escaped them,” Nesac’s wife soothed.

“I pray so.”

Prill asked, “Where will we find water down here?”

Deuel gave a mirthless chuckle. “We might have to dig for it.”

Equally unamused, Dan said, “I haven’t explored much beyond the entrance. If we can’t find an underground stream, we’ll be forced to return to the city each night and go to the wells.”

A worrisome option. The few productive wells were guarded and dwindling rapidly. Ela bit her lip. They needed to find an underground stream. Infinite?

She moved on in the darkness. Kalme called, “Ela, slow down. We’re depending on you for most of our light.”

“Sorry.” Ela glanced back over her shoulder and promptly fell, sliding down an incline. A chorus of yells lifted in the cave above. Sprawled faceup in the dirt, Ela caught her breath and the still-glowing branch. Nothing hurt except her dignity, her elbows, and her rump. To reassure the others, she called out, “I’m safe.” Maybe.

She tried to see beyond the branch into the darkness. And failed, of course. Except . . . chilling liquid seeped into her short boots. “I’ve found water!”

Hunger gnawed into Ela’s sleep. She tried to ignore it, taking refuge in her dreams. Really, three days of strict rationing should have accustomed her to a growling stomach. And it would be unprophet-like to grumble. Hadn’t she fasted in the desert for longer than three days? Scolding herself, she reached for the branch. Gone.

Jolted wide awake, she sat up. Not only was the branch missing,
but something in the cavern had changed. A shift in light and air. Shadows, large shadows, spread throughout the subterranean landscape. And large shadows meant a large light. Behind her. Had they been discovered? Infinite!

Turn and see.

Wary, she looked over her shoulder. A tree.
The
tree. Broad, spiraling vinewood trunk. Shimmering fruits, glorious flowers, and leaves all jewel-like in the darkness. Just as she remembered. Ela stared, dazzled and distressed. If only Tzana could be here.

Tzana.

Pain sliced through the numbness that had sheltered Ela since Tzana’s death. Tears burned and glistened, blurring in the vinewood tree’s glow. And sobs shattered her breath. Lowering her face into the dirt, Ela worshiped her Creator and cried.

Someone knelt beside Ela and held her. Mother.

Kalme cried with her. But she kissed Ela and snuggled her as if she were a child again. Ela hugged Mother tight. At long last, she sniffled and straightened. Tears, hers and Mother’s, dripped off her face.

“Better?” Kalme sounded congested from crying.

No. “A little.” She would miss Tzana for the rest of her short mortal life. Sucking in a shaky breath, Ela wiped at the tears. Father and the others were staring at her. Even Jess was watching. Though he did turn within Father’s arms to gaze at the tree.

Ela tugged off her short boots and reached for her baby brother. “May I?”

Dan handed over Jess, then stood. Clearly astounded by the tree, Father said, “Tell us about this . . . miracle.”

“I will. But, first, everyone, remove your boots and sandals.”

As he wrenched off his boots, Chief Priest Nesac recited, “‘From dirt we were created, to dirt we will return. Bless the Infinite!’”

While she waited, Ela kissed Jess and comforted herself by smoothing his curls. When everyone stood near, barefoot, she said, “The tree is the branch, transformed by the Infinite’s mercy.
He has chosen this way to provide for us.” Fresh tears threatened as she said, “Tzana loved this tree!”

Reverent, Ela carried Jess over to the sacred ground. Grass sprang soft, cool, and rich green beneath her bare feet. And so sweetly scented that she felt fed just inhaling its fragrance. After unwrapping Jess from his swaddling clothes, she leaned against the tree’s broad spiraling trunk, lifted her brother’s tiny hand, and rested it on the gleaming vinewood. The baby gripped an iridescent twist of bark and stared, frowning, as if trying to decipher the purity of its inward light.

She wished he were old enough to remember this instant. To remember Tzana. And her.

Followed by Sara Nesac, Prill neared, her slim face scared, yet elated. “Are we permitted to touch the tree?”

“Yes. And we can eat the fruit.”

Deuel halted at the verdant edge of the subterranean oasis and shook his head. “I don’t deserve to approach it!”

Nesac pulled at the merchant’s sleeve. “It’s not a matter of you deserving the Infinite’s gift. What matters is His perfect love in offering it to you. Will you abandon your pride and self-absorbed ways and accept His gift? Or will you shun it and Him?”

Deuel covered his face with his hands and sat down on the cavern’s barren rocks, clearly overwhelmed. Casting a longing glance at the tree, Nesac sat with him, ready to counsel this new and profoundly distressed follower of the Infinite.

Dan and Kalme approached the tree cautiously. For a long time, they simply stood beneath the branches, admiring it. At last, Dan asked, “Tzana saw this tree?”

“Yes. While I was in the desert, after I first became a prophet, she obeyed the Infinite and guarded the branch in my absence. In return, He protected her, sheltering her and feeding her by changing the branch to a tree. While she was here, where you now stand, she was free of her illness. She was beautiful. . . .” Remembering her little sister’s joy, her vivid lovely face, Ela’s throat tightened.

Kalme rested her face against the tree, tears sliding down her
cheeks. Dan said, “I wonder why the Infinite allowed her to accompany you on such a dangerous journey.”

Why, indeed? Ela sent her thoughts upward. Infinite? Why did you allow Tzana to face such dangers with me?

Because she loves you. And because she fulfilled her work for My glory.

Warring for composure, Ela repeated the Infinite’s answer to her father.

Dan sat in the lush grass and tender flowers and covered his face with his big, work-toughened hands. “It’s more than I’d ever hoped for her.” His shoulders shook with sobs.

In Akabe’s tower-top arena, Lorteus, the royal fightmaster, glowered at Kien, then spoke, his voice as harsh as metal raking over stone. “On your journey to Parne, your role as the king’s friend—his near equal—has great importance. At all times, you must be ready to defend his life as well as your own.”

And Ela’s, Kien added silently, determined to best this arrogant brute of a fightmaster. For Ela’s sake, he must be battle ready. Whatever it took. Even enduring Lorteus.

Strutting about, chin lifted and big nostrils flaring, Lorteus said, “Danger surrounds every king and those nearest him. My task is to ensure you both survive any sort of attack.” With a disdainful frown, he added, “The problem now is that you Tracelanders can be duped by your own reflections! You’re too confident in your Azurnite! But pretty blades will not defend a dismal swordsman.” Smug, he lifted two wooden longswords—wasters—from a nearby stand and slapped one at Kien. “Believe me, Tracelander, I can bring you down despite your weapon!”