Chapter 2 ~ The Turning
I watched him leave with interest, not moving from the position I had adopted, a hand outstretched to the doorway where I could see his Fardasi waiting. How many of them had I seen? How many of them had I named and called forth from the Limbo in which their atash resided?
Countless dozens: the Reborn.
None had caused such a sting of interest as this one, and yet I could not place what interested me so. What care had I? AdurArshaam, the Keeper of the Sacred Fire! What care had I of a lowly Ardazem, if care was even what such a fleeting response could be called.
Dustande.
I turned the name over and over in my mind, it floated there within the darkness like a flash of gold, the scales of a carp within the deep waters, surfacing now and then in glimpses. Why had such a name come to me? A name which symbolised change!
"Blessed AdurArshaam, there are no more to be Called this day."
I heard the whispered tones of Blessed Quortoub come from behind, drifting through my thoughts like an unwanted leaf upon the still water. I chose not to reply, turning instead and spitting the chewed Khusbul leaf from my mouth into the bronze bowl held by a lowly serf. The acrid sharp taste overwhelmed all other odours, the herb's strong flavour masking the lingering scents of Zinith and Aith which lingered on the heavy air.
Slowly and methodically, with all the ceremony and gestures which had become second nature to me, I rinsed my mouth in a second bowl brought to me, the serfs vanishing back into the darkness like clockwork dolls in a line, each knowing their duty and stepping forward as the first stepped back. Blind and mute they were my Avarai, my obedient shadows.
I did not choose to speak again until I had left the Heart, the all but silent footsteps of my brothers close behind.
"How many now serve Iysärav Blessed Baraiq?"
"Near to houn-sem High Elder."
I nodded in satisfaction, a good number, the newest Reborn had proven fruitful and many more would follow. As night succeeded day, the hopeful would come, drawn to serving their Queen and Blessed Circle. What higher honour could such simple common people ever dream?
"What news of Tesarat?" I asked as I led the way towards the Hiysurage, the faces of priests and acolytes lowered from me like wheat bending before the blade, a swathe of drab colour and anonymity I cared never to be burdened with knowing by name.
Quortoub's thin wheeze gusted from the depths of his cowl, nothing but an exhalation of air from the deepest crypt.
"That is the first matter of business amongst the Merchant Courts."
I did not ask for further explanation, all would become clear when we reached the Hiysurage chamber. There we would meet with the lesser Circle Brothers to commence hearing the business of the day before moving towards the outer public courts where the merchant classes would be awaiting us. With the coming of Spring, the taxes and offerings placed upon and expected from the outlying Ekklesias was to rise. Winter had passed and another year of plenty was upon us and only through offerings and gestures of good faith could any mortals wish to gain the favour of Nuryana.
The events of the morning's Calling were pushed to the furthest recess of my mind, now overshadowed by my rising anger. Tesarat, that filth-ridden pockmark of a port town, a nest of vermin fit only to be swept away by the seas! Since the winter snows had settled on the high Kalasian Mountains, the merchant folk of Tesarat had chosen to ignore the duty placed upon them and sent us but half of what was owed in tithes! I contained my seething wrath, shaping and moulding it within my very core until it became a cold bar of ice, the time for diplomacy was over.
Ahead of me all moved like the flow of a river, Ardazem bowing their heads as we swept past. To me they were but automated statues, well placed and well maintained, the ebb and flow of Iysärav pulsing to the rhythm of every waking day. Order: rigid, clean, pure.
The ivory and gold doors to Hiysurage opened ahead of me, pulled to by bowing Ardazem, a voice calling ahead to the vast circular recesses: "Bow before the Blessed Crimson." and into the light marble frigidity of the hall I stepped, neither looking up nor around.
I knew each chamber in Iysärav, I knew every crack and fissure of each pillar and wall. This— palace—was mine, and not a day passed that I did not know of each whispered sigh echoed through its vaults and galleries and no footstep passed upon its tiles that I did not allow to do so. Within its walls all mortal creatures existed only to serve the Blessed.
Silence had fallen as the combined energies of all assembled fell still, heads bowed and eyes upon the shining white marble. I did not rush, all must be ceremony, all must be ritually timed. I knew each step made across the circular plane of white, stepping upon the raised dais within the very centre. There I raised my right arm in the gesture of Blessing, index and middle fingers together and straight, thumb relaxed. And then I sat.
"Rise and let another day commence." I said, the bowed figures moving to my words like marionettes pulled by strings I held, their faces nondescript and of no interest.
Thus my day began anew, carefully listening as each Colour stepped forward to speak on their duties and concerns. The Azure Sisters had begun work upon the new stretch of Durisimi for Nuryana and by the dawn of the morrow it would once more be ready to be worn. That morning the flames had turned white when the old Durisimi had been cast within them and all was as expected. Next the Pale Brothers requested permission for some of their number to leave Iysärav in search of ancient hide scrolls they believed to be buried deep within the ruins of Miraj.
"A bookseller was attempting to sell a scrap of ancient text in the market" said the Pale Brother elected to speak, his voice a single monotone that had little life to jolt it from its linear course. "Under interrogation he told us that he had purchased it himself from a man known as Tarjeet, a desert dweller who acquired it whilst attempting to loot the ruins."
"I trust you have found and dealt with this man?" I asked.
He did not even falter.
"Yes Blessed Elder, for stealing from a sacred ruin he has had his hands severed and his tongue removed."
"And the bookseller?"
I noticed with scorn the momentary pause and slight shift in his demeanour. He dared to gaze up at me, the impudent wretch, his flabby face shining from the white radiance the sun upon the marble gave. His eyes flickered to those behind him as though for support, but he was alone, his brothers remaining damningly silent.
"He—he was released Blessed Elder." the man finally stammered in response, his voice quivering in a high note towards the end of his monotonous dirge.
Now I rose to my feet and gazed up at the pillared galleries above. There, observing the meeting and taking attentive note, were the lesser priests and acolytes within the employ of the Circle, their round eyes glittering down upon me, dark and wide in their staring faces, like sheep within a flock. It was they who would one day spread the Holy Words of Light to the four corners of Quarai, mingling with the lowly people of the land and keeping them within the fold of the Ekklesia. If there was weakness within our Circle, it would lie within their number, and must be rectified lest it spread like a cancer!
"Only the Blessed Circle are worthy enough to read such knowledge and all others who claimed that privilege are punishable by death for their arrogance." My voice filled the chamber, the tones seeping and washing about every pillar and filling every orifice leaving no room for an echo. "For a mere mortal to acquire—nay, to purchase, and then attempt to make profit from the words of the Divines is sacrilege! It is an abomination! Let it be known that the Blessed do not smile upon such actions and that it is an insult to Nuryana Herself!"
I turned my head now to the bowing Pale Brother, his ears burning red.
"Arrest and execute the bookseller, his stock is now forfeit and thus property of the Circle. Search his inventory for anything of value which may hold yet more leads to hidden tomes or manuscripts and then destroy the remainder." I spoke loudly so that the scribe hidden at the far end of the hall within his wooden cubicle may hear me clearly. "Let it also be known that all goods previously purchased from this bookseller are to be found and likewise destroyed, such men are tainted by the Soulless Ones and all that which they provide is likewise tainted."
I did not sit, gesturing instead for the kneeling Pale Brother to rise.
"All knowledge of the Ancient Divines and the Savage or Enlightened Ages belongs within our walls and not languishing where any mortal may find them. Your request is granted and some of your number may leave Iysärav to recover these scrolls. A company of Ardazem will accompany you and should anymore of these desert people pose an obstruction then you have my Blessing to do as you see fit."
I returned to my seat, watching as the Pale Brother bowed deeply and backed away, assimilated once more into the ivory robes of his brethren. He would be punished, as would any others of his number who had allowed such a lapse of judgement to pass. The laws of the Circle were absolute and clear, there was no room for error and should a small crack appear, our enemies could not be allowed to seize upon it!
Further matters between the Circle Colours commenced with little interruption or cause for concern and I listened with sharp interest to every detail. Vigilance was our greatest weapon against Circle collapse, and order was beauty. As the hours of the day reel forth in perfectly measured succession, so the Circle moved, a wheel turning ever onward.
In the Hour of Attention I sat upon the raised dais in the Merchant's Court listening to the lists of goods brought in from our outlying Ekklesias, waiting for the moment that Tesarat would be brought to my attention. Did those low bred merchants and sea vermin believe their atash was beyond taint? Did they believe that they, crawling pestilence that they were, were above the grace of Nuryana Herself?
The cold hatred within me flickered with pulses of heat as my eyes fell upon the gaudy form of Binaidem, the self elected spokesperson for the pathetic excuse of a "guild" those Tesarian scum called themselves. As I knew it, Binaidem was not of Quarai, he was a Minarian from across the Sea of Rashanar and had taken the position of Merchant Elect in Teserat when his cousin, the late Merchant Elect, had passed on. Since his acquisition of such a position, Teserat had spat insults upon the Circle with their meagre tithes, growing fat and greedy and neglecting their duty to the Ekklesial Offerings. Such a challenge could not go unanswered, an example must be made!
Even now as I glared at him across the hall, he dared to catch my eye, his fleshy features twitching into a slight expression of unabashed arrogance! I dug my golden claws into the wooden arm of my chair, I would wipe that smug look from his face, by the fury of Nuryana I would make it so!
"Binaidem of Tesarat Blessed Elders," the merchant scribe read from his list of attendees, finally uttering the words I had been waiting for.
I sat up erect in my chair, watching the man like a hawk as he strode boldly across the hall, aware and revelling in the many eyes upon him, the whisperings of the others only posing to swell his arrogance further! Like a strutting cock he took his deliberate time crossing to the dais, glaring up at me unashamedly.
"You will bow before the Blessed." I said, the acid cold in my core seething at such audacity.
The man's actions were slow and theatrical, the court silent as a grave, the air thin and frigid.
"Forgive me my Lords" he said in a high reedy voice, holding the bow for longer than was necessary as a blatant expression of mockery towards us.
This challenge would not go unanswered.
I did not deem him worthy of a response, turning slightly to the merchant scribe who remained still as stone, holding his scroll open, unsure of what to do next. His reluctance to continue stoked the fire within my atash further and I suppressed the urge to strike the fool where he stood.
"Continue, what are the tithes brought from Tesarat" I said instead, my eyes fixed upon the fat foul form of that lump of dog excrement Binaidem.
The scribe read out the list, Binaidem watching him all the time as though pleased with his offering, an insubordinate child before his tutor! Finally when the list came to an end, the scribe rolled up his parchment and sat at his desk, preparing his stylus for the matters ahead. All was silent, the assembled humanity waiting in apprehension, and still Binaidem looked up at me, as though challenging how far he could push. The man had no fear, I'll grant him that, however bravery is one thing and foolishness another. We would see how much longer that look would remain upon his face.
"It has come to our attention that last month's tithes did not meet expectation" I began, my voice steady though the anger welled within me unchecked. Order, unruled by emotion was what must be shown to the lowly. "And now Tesarat delivers below expectation once more."
I did not wait for his response, rising instead and lifting a hand for silence.
"Do those of Tesarat believe they no longer require the blessing of the Divine? Are you so arrogant to presume that such an insult would go unnoticed?" I glared down at him, pouring all my wrath into that one glance and willing him to shrivel and melt into a pile of flesh and fat.
The arrogance flickered within his eyes and began to dim, the beginnings of fear creeping into his expression, its claws digging into his flabby body.
"Nuryana knows all that lies within the hearts of man and such unabashed and ungrateful vanity displeases Her. Perhaps those of Tesarat do not require Her protection, satisfied instead to be tainted by greed and the wiles of the Soulless Ones." I stabbed a finger towards him. "You dare come before the Circle, unashamed and with such vulgar gestures of good will? Are not the atash of your people worth more, or have they already been blackened and devoured by the enemies of the Divine?"
I stepped forward slightly so that I now looked directly down upon the man.
"We have been watching you Binaidem, do not think we have turned a blind eye to your insults against us. I care not how matters are run in Tanavor Minar but within the Shining City and all encompassed lands of Quarai, respect is given the Circle and Ekklesial Offerings remain to cleanse the filth of mortal existence from the lowly. Had Teserat come to us with a valid reason as to why such paltry offerings are given, then mercy would have been granted, however you come before us now, proud of that which you give, unashamed, invoking the Glorious Wrath of the Divine."
I turned to the scribe, ignoring the stammered beginnings of Binaidem's excuses. That morning I had convinced myself to exercise mercy, but now such mercy had left me.
"Let it be known, that on this day, a troop of Tert-cen Ardazem will be deployed to Tesarat with the soul purpose of emptying the stores and warehouses of all merchants within the Tesarian Guild."
Binadiam was begging upon the floor like a snivelling sack of filth, crawling forward to reach the lower steps of the dais in an attempt to grasp the hem of my robe. With a single gesture I called forth the Ardazem waiting within the recesses around the chamber, a glow of satisfaction satiating the fire within my atash as the merchant was dragged back and restrained like the beast he was.
"Let it also be known," I continued, savouring the look of pleading upon his face, now so far from the self assured vanity it had previously displayed. "That this man, Binaidam, and all who have henceforth been associated with him in this so called "guild", have fallen beneath the dark influence of the Soulless Ones and are to be arrested on sight and held for execution."
Binaidam let out a shrill shriek and fainted. The anger within me washed away like the cool water of a river and was replaced instead with the gratifying feeling of satisfaction and order once more reclaimed.
"That is the choice of the Blessed Circle." I concluded, gesturing to the Ardazem to remove the offending filth from my sight and seating myself once more. "From this day forth, the Circle shall send its own merchants to overtake the businesses of these fallen men. Furthermore all assets previously belonging to the Guild and its associates falls under the property of Iysärav. That is how arrogance and insults towards Nuryana is rewarded, remember this moment well and take comfort in the knowledge that those who are generous in the cleansing of their atash will be rewarded."
Satisfied with the events of the morning, the Hour of Listening passed uneventfully, all running smoothly as was expected, ushering in the Hour of Reflection. My duties of dealing with the lowly were through and once more I could begin to concern myself with more pressing matters.
"I feel that the devotion of the people may be slipping," I said, voicing my opinion as I walked towards the Chambers of Silence.
"A Miracle may be in order" replied Blessed Yas ever in tune with my thoughts.
I nodded slightly in agreement, the darkened corridor stretching ahead, silent and muffled, ending in a small unembellished set of doors. There were no Ardazem here, not within the innermost sanctum of the Circle Quarters, the chambers of the Blessed Crimson were not a place they belonged. Away from the rushing throb of Iysärav, the Chambers of Silence remained untouched by mortal feet other than our own.
I allowed myself a small smile. Of course, there was Zamaan.
Even now as our silent footsteps approached the far door it began to open, pulled by invisible hands, ushering us back into the sanctity of our private world where none may overhear us. Within, our servant waited. The creature said nothing, bowing as was customary before slowly pushing the door shut behind, its movements as silent as a shadow.
Pulling back the hood of my robe I gestured languidly towards the far corner of the chamber.
"Bring wine and then leave us."
Zamaan bowed once more, its shackled feet sliding across the cool marble with a sound like sand, tough and grating as though the smooth surface were ridged with imperfections. Even now, after so many years I congratulated myself on retaining such a creature. It showed no expression or emotion of course, such beasts are incapable and Unenlightened, however at times I believe it did try, its black eyes glaring at me in what it believed to be an expression of frightful hate. In a lesser man, such a look may have stopped his heart and shot fear through his being, it merely amused me however, as it had always done.
"Cease such glaring creature, it does you little good. Bound you are and bound you shall stay, until the very mountains shatter and crumble and the oceans all but dry up."
Beside me Yas laughed and seized a goblet of wine from a golden tray.
"Perhaps it means to frighten us," she said in scorn.
"Such things are impossible," I replied, lounging back against the cushions, regarding Zamaan now with sharp interest. At times the creature was tiresome and needed disciplining. My fingers twitched, itching to punish it for little reason. I was its master, I needed no excuse other than my displeasure at it.
The silver chains about its body burned within the eye of my mind and I whispered the words of their Being, calling them to my will, naming each link and bond and igniting them with fire. Before me the creature shivered and writhed, the tray falling from its hands and its mouth twisted open into a hollow silent cry. Pain, I had come to understand, was the only true sensation the creature felt. I did not take my eyes from it, a thrill bubbling within me at the sight of it twitching and convulsing in agony. I could almost hear it shrieking, its soundless voice somewhere far off in the darkened voids of the world. Did it curse me I wondered? Did it revile my name with every breath of its being?
A chuckle rippled up from my throat and I cared little. Let it do so!
With the snapping shut of my mind's eye the ethereal flames extinguished and the chains fell into their dormant limbo, waiting to be Called like minute Ardazem. The creature slowly uncurled itself, unfolding and straightening like crumpled parchment, its black glass eyes upon me as dead and cold as a living statue.
"Remember by what power you were captured and bound here," I said, lifting a goblet to my lips, keeping the creature's dead stare. Its challenging looks always sent a tickling spark of excitement through my core, did it think it could frighten me with such glances? "Continue to glare beast, but know that you will never be freed. You go where I will it and when I will it, you are nothing but a chained dog to be beaten when I see fit!"
Its presence now angered me and I hurled the half full goblet at it in wrath, the deep red wine splattering its flesh like the blood it did not possess.
"Begone creature!" I barked.
The foul thing vanished, leaving the room free of its vile pathetic presence. My ire now inflamed I sat in silence, the earlier disquiet thoughts returning to fill the dark recesses of my mind once more. Dustande.
Why did the name continue to linger on my consciousness, gnawing away at me like rats within the walls of my mind? I reached idly for another goblet nearby and swirled the dark liquid about the golden bowl of the cup seeking an answer within the motion. My brethren were clearly untroubled, but as always, the presence of Yas was felt, probing the outskirts of my subconscious.
"Something troubles you Blessed Elder." Her voice whispered within my mind, not so much sounds, but feelings, like cold needles pushing slowly deeper.
A thin smile flickered across my lips as I met her gaze. Most could not defend against her probing fingers of thought, their minds ever open and freely accessible, but I was not like most others. There were recesses which not even she could penetrate with her needles. Instead of replying I turned away and spoke to the others collectively.
"Another Ekklesial year is beginning my brothers and we are but a week away from the annual Descent of our Queen amongst the people," I said. "It would be an opportune moment for a Miracle."
"The belief in Nuryana will always wane slightly amongst the outlying communities during the long cold of winter," added Haroun the Silent, rare to speak but always the voice of fact. We all knew his words to be true, it was in the colder dark days of winter that the weak found themselves straying from the Light. It was almost too repulsive to think of the petty frailty of the lowly, eager to follow in devotion when times were plentiful, but their hearts wavered with the waning ghostly light of the winter sun when hard times befell them—pathetic and ungrateful wretches! Still…it was we, the Circle who must stand firm against such wavering weakness.
"Such uncertain belief will be strengthened once more when our Queen speaks, have no fear of this" I said, idly watching the firelight dance across the golden claws I wore— they were perfection, such cold indifferent perfection! "A Miracle shall arise and the weak of faith will once more be drawn into the fold."
"And those who are not?" hissed Quortoub, hunched far from us in a dark recess, like the husk of a corpse, his hood ever drawn over his face. Quortoub the Dead we called him when he was not Blessed Quortoub, the most watchful of us all.
I flexed the golden claws a moment, savouring the feeling of the gold cut through the air—such sweet fluid movement— curled into a fist, grasping the twisting ethereal names upon the air which hovered like smoke. They were nothing but Kundjinn, small insignificant creatures who's existence had no purpose or bearing on greater life forms. It gave me satisfaction to watch as they squirmed within my grasp, small smoke-like fragments tearing away and vanishing as they ceased to exist, leaving nothing but small empty voids where they had been. These voids were filled almost immediately by their countless thousand brethren, flowing to fill the gap like water, unheeding of their fellow’s demise, existing simply to exist.
"Watch them" I said languidly, opening my palm once more, allowing the Kundjinn to flow over my hand, dancing their meaningless writhing dances. "And then collect them."
"And what of the merchants of Tesarat?" asked Baraiq seated at a desk, parchment spread before him, his stylus gliding across it with little hesitation as he spoke. He was the Scribe, writer of all which happened within Iysärav, his eyes were near white with blindness but he did not require physical sight to see. The world he saw was the breath of Iysärav. Each living creature within its walls was a mark upon his parchment, breathing forth yet more to be seen before his eyes and given life through his stylus.
"They are to be executed on the day of Descent" I replied. "Let it be known amongst the Sepia Brothers Yas."
She nodded, The Listener, she who probed and heard the thoughts of any she desired.
“It shall be done blessed AdurArshaam” she replied with a slight bow though she glanced quickly up at me once more and I could feel her pushing her needles deeper into my mind in an attempt to delve further into my thoughts.
Her determination was admirable as always, but she would get no further.
“What news of the DarakDazem deployed before the snows?” I asked, turning to Rumezaad, content to leave her at her fruitless efforts to gain the recesses of my thought.
The Whisperer. He spoke in tongues the beasts understood, silent and without sound man could hear, his feral eyes glinted in the flickering of brazier-light, a deep guttural exhalation reverberating through his teeth.
“No news” he finally replied.
I sat up straight and leant forward, the rise in pressure upon the air causing the Kundjinn to flitter and convulse, sensing the spark of anxiety within my brethren.
“Why were we not told sooner brother?” I snapped, the sparks of wrath beginning to flicker in my core once more. “Need I remind you of the importance of the Dragon-Purges?”
“I had not forgotten Blessed AdurArshaam” replied Rumezaad. “The DarakDazem were last seen on the road to the barbarian lands.”
“Then we may as well forget them” growled Damaad, The Keeper, largest of us all and always the quickest to leap to dismissal. His domain lay within the deepest bowels of Iysärav, his duties: keeper of the darkest secrets. “Send word to the outlying Ekklesias and let us send forth a new band before this day is through.”
“Do not be so hasty brother” I said, my eyes still resting upon Rumezaad. “Is there sufficient supply?”
“Enough to last another Tasting brother” replied Baraiq in Rumezaad’s stead.
I rose and pulled the hood of my robe up once more. The Hour of Toil was close at hand and I was needed elsewhere.
“Then conserve your energies” I replied turning to the door, Zamaan appearing to push it open. “The DarakDazem must return victorious Rumezaad, keep searching and if they must travel into the very heard of Gallus then so be it!”
The others bowed their heads as I left, the doors closing shut behind me and though I had not called him verbally, Zamaan followed like a shadow, the rustling scrape of his feet muffled in the heavy silence.
“You will run an errand for me my dog” I said not turning. “Fetch me a gift, a delicate fresh morsel for Ankabi, I have reason to speak with her.” I flicked a hand in a gesture to be gone and once more I was alone.