[Shadowed Path 02] - Candle in the Storm (13 page)

The preparations for Gatt’s last rites extended well into the morning. Honus carried the dead Sarf’s body to the brook and left Yim alone while she cleansed it. As Yim undressed Gatt, she was saddened to see how young he was. She washed the
 blood from his chest, then turned him over to wash his back. The runes tattooed there formed a short inscription; they didn’t even reach the Sarf’s shoulder blades.
 
It seems they foretold a short life 
, thought Yim. The language was the same archaic one transcribed on Honus’s back, and Yim found its text equally unenlightening. Nevertheless, she studied what was written there, looking for some clue to Gatt’s actions. One word caught her eye, for it was unique and she had also seen it on Honus’s back. The word was “Daijen.” It formed half of the final inscription: “Bewarr Daijen.”

Does that mean “Beware Daijen”? Is Daijen someone’s name?
Yim recalled thinking that a line among Honus’s tattoos had spelled out “He sends Daijen.” She resolved to look at the runes again to verify her memory.

Yim spoke to the dead man. “Was it Daijen who poisoned your mind? If so, how sad you had no Bearer to warn you.” Then she recalled that a Bearer wouldn’t speak of the portents on a Sarf’s back and realized the warning wasn’t meant for Gatt. As Yim stared at the words needled on the corpse, a chilling notion came to her.
 
This warning is meant for me!

FOURTEEN

YIM REMAINED
by the brook after Honus carried Gatt’s body away. The suddenness and the intensity of her feelings had disoriented her, and she needed some quiet time to steady herself. Yim thought bathing in cold water would help. Before she did, she plucked fragrant herbs to use in scrubbing
 the dirt from her skin so she would be sweetly scented when Honus saw her next. Then Yim shed her clothes and washed them. After she wrung them out and hung them in the sun to dry, Yim turned to washing herself. Bearing a handful of violets, woodruff, and wild lavender, she waded to a place where the water ran clear and deep.

Previously, concern that Honus might view her bathing had always made Yim wash hastily. In her new frame of mind, she thought differently about the prospect. The idea of him seeing her nude was deliciously exciting, and she took her time bathing. As Yim brushed the wet herbs over her skin, she imagined their leaves and blossoms were Honus’s fingertips. Cupping her breasts, she recalled the night in Luvein when Honus had touched her there. On that occasion, she had felt only passive and apprehensive. That moment seemed from a different life. As Yim imitated the way Honus had gently kneaded her nipples, she felt a warm, pleasant sensation spread from between her thighs.

When her spirit had joined with Honus’s, Yim had relived his memories of passion. It made her crave to experience its ecstasies firsthand.
 
It’ll be so easy 
, Yim thought, as her hands roved over her body.
 
He wants me as much as I want him 
. All she needed to do was express her willingness and Honus would make love to her. The mere thought of it made her tingle all over.

Yet as soon as Yim envisioned consummating her desire, a contrary thought arose:
 
I can’t! I’m the Chosen 
. She couldn’t perform her sacred duty if she wasn’t a virgin. There was no middle ground; she could either fulfill her love or her destiny. Torn between the two, Yim found she couldn’t forsake Karm. She had revered the goddess since childhood, and she had loved Honus for less than a day. Nonetheless, the strength of her new feelings made the choice a wrenching one. Yim hurriedly dressed in her wet clothes, as if to dampen desire. It remained as strong as ever, but instead of
 being exhilarating, it became torment. Love transformed into a gnawing hunger with no prospect of satisfaction.

Yim slumped on a rock, chilled by her damp clothes. Her physical discomfort mirrored her anguish as joy hardened into sorrow. For a while, she sought to convince herself that Karm had chosen Honus to father her child.
 
That’s why she helped me save him 
. Despite wanting to believe that, Yim sensed it wasn’t true.
 
If I were meant to bear Honus’s child, we would’ve conceived one long ago 
. The Wise Woman had been adamant that the goddess would reveal the father, so Karm’s silence seemed proof that Yim had yet to meet him. She probably never would if she made love to Honus.

When Yim pondered her dilemma further, she felt that surrendering to desire would not only betray Karm but also Honus. As a Sarf, his life was dedicated to the goddess. Yim recalled Cara’s words:
 
“You need only climb into Honus’s bed to thwart Karm.”
 
Yim couldn’t imagine Honus opposing the goddess. To cause him to do so in ignorance would be deceptive and supremely selfish.

I must reveal to Honus what it means to be the Chosen 
, Yim thought.
 
There’s no other way 
. She felt the truth would shatter their happiness, and that thought dispirited her. She recalled with irony how she had thought of love as Karm’s gift. It had become Karm’s curse instead, a poison—first sweet, then bitter—that burnt without hope of relief. Yim wished that she didn’t love Honus, yet couldn’t bear the thought of being apart from him. She wondered if her feelings were a trial, a punishment, or the means to some end she couldn’t imagine.

Yim remained on the rock a while longer, but her thoughts were caged beasts that ran in circles. She loved both Honus and Karm, and she could have one only by denying the other. Finally wearied of thinking, Yim waded across the brook to find Honus and bare her heart to him.

*   *   *

In the center of the clearing was a huge pile of branches and dry brush. Gatt lay atop it, looking peaceful in death. Honus was nowhere to be found. Yim waited for him and the passing time compounded her unhappiness. Honus didn’t return until midafternoon. He carried three pheasants and was grinning broadly before he caught Yim’s anguished look. His smile vanished. “Yim, what’s the matter?”

“Honus, I must tell you something.” Yim saw the concern in Honus’s face and felt that he had never looked more beautiful. Words deserted her for a moment, and she simply stared at him, filled with longing. Honus waited patiently until she regained her composure. “Honus, you know that I’m the Chosen.”

“Yes.”

“You believe that’s something holy. Well, it’s not. Karm gave me a task. If I accomplish it, some good will be achieved. My worth lies solely in that. I’m only the vessel, not the wine.”

“Karmamatus …”

“Please Honus, let me finish. I’ve kept so much from you.” Yim felt her throat constrict, and she struggled not to cry. “I … I regret that. I was sworn to secrecy, but now … now that things have changed between us and… Oh Honus! I need your strength more than ever.”

Honus bowed. “You have it, Karmamatus. Be assured of that.”

“I’m supposed to bear a child. Karm will reveal who’s to be the father. She hasn’t done so yet. Until she does, I may tup with no man.” Yim noted the surprise on Honus’s face. “Yes, I lied to you. I’m a virgin and must remain one.”

“And last night… this morning …”

“Mistakes.”

“I see.”

“I’ve never loved a man before. I didn’t foresee the path love takes. Yet now that I do, I must think only of my duty.”

“If your duty is to bear a child, why take on Theodus’s quest?”

“Karm told me to follow his footsteps. For a while I thought they’d lead to the man who’s to father my child, but now I’m not sure. My visions seldom make sense. I can’t even read your runes. You should leave me. I’m unfit to guide you.”

“I’m your Sarf. You needn’t guide me.”

“But we shouldn’t be together!”

“Because you must remain untouched? Yim, one can love chastely. I’m proof of that.”

Yim smiled wanly. “Now I understand your torment.”

Honus gently enfolded Yim in his arms. “It can be hard, but there are good times, too.”

Yim wavered, then returned Honus’s embrace. “I worry I’ll be weak.”

“You’ve never been that, Karmamatus.” Honus kissed Yim’s forehead. “And Theodus taught me one thing well: Real love is never weakness.”

Deep within the Black Temple was a room that few priests knew about and fewer still had ever entered. It was built deep underground so that daylight never reached its walls of dusky basalt. When the room’s iron door was shut and the lamp extinguished, the darkness there was absolute. The rough walls leaned inward; otherwise the chamber was featureless except for a circle carved into the stone floor to form a shallow trough.

Daijen entered the room, throwing back the deep hood that hid his newly aged face. A single oil lamp burned, filling the chill air with pungent smoke. Its pale light revealed a small boy dressed in a slave’s tunic who lay shivering on the floor. His wrists were tied, as were his ankles. He stared at the More Holy One in terror, his rapid breath visible in the room’s otherworldly coldness.

The surroundings were new to Daijen, but the ritual he
 must perform was familiar to him. He drew a dagger from his robe and made quick work of the sacrifice, holding his victim’s throat over the trough so the blood flowed into it. When a crimson circle marked the floor, the More Holy One stepped inside its protection. There he knelt and sent his thoughts to the Dark Path to invoke his master. The Devourer overlooked the entire world, and none could hide from its malice. Soon Daijen would know where to find Yim.

The sun’s last rays filled the clearing with rosy light when Honus touched Gatt’s pyre with a burning branch. Flames rapidly spread from the spot. Before they engulfed the dead Sarf, Honus drove the point of Gatt’s sword deep into the ground. He placed his sandaled foot against the middle of the blade, which he had cleansed of poison, and grasped the hilt. Then pulling with both hands and pushing with his foot, he bent the blade until it snapped. Honus placed the broken sword on Gatt’s chest, then stepped back from the pyre’s growing heat. “Now the Bearer speaks to Karm,” he said.

“What should I say?”

“Whatever comes to you.”

Yim gazed at the dark shape within the swirling flames awhile before she spoke. “His name was Gatt. He was a Sarf. He tried to kill me. That’s all I know about him. I hope you’ll show him mercy in your judgment because …” Yim paused a long moment, gathering her thoughts. “Because he was probably unable to see how deeds play out. Was he guided by your will? You can tell, but I think it was less easy for him. It can be hard to discern the proper path. Very hard. I know, for in this I’m like Gatt. So please show him mercy if he was wrong, just as I hope that you’ll show me mercy.”

Honus looked at Yim, wanting to contradict her and say that she was unlike Gatt. But when he saw the tears streaming
 down her cheeks, he knew her words were heartfelt, and so he held his tongue.

It was nighttime when Daijen finally staggered from the subterranean chamber. His hood hid his face from prying eyes as he rushed from the temple. Thus no priest observed his drawn expression and speculated on what had caused it. Daijen wandered the dark streets awhile, scarcely conscious of where he was. He felt like a sailor cast ashore by a raging storm, but instead of wind and waves, otherworldly forces had battered him while he cowered within the ring of blood. The ordeal had seemed like it could end only with his destruction; yet somehow he had survived. Something had struggled with his master within the dark room, and the contest had nearly shattered Daijen’s sanity. The invisible forces were so powerful that they affected his mind like physical blows. Each assault from either side was agony, a clap of pervasive pain that left him reeling and nauseous.

When the combat finally subsided, Daijen felt profoundly disturbed. He had always regarded the Devourer as all-powerful—the world’s inevitable overlord. Yet within that dark chamber he had just experienced his master’s power being challenged. After the massacre at Karm’s temple, he hadn’t believed such a thing was possible. To him, Karm was a deity for weaklings, one that bestowed only worthless gifts. None of her followers could cheat death, practice sorcery, or enflame men’s minds. Yet some power had stymied his master, and Daijen felt certain that it was the goddess.

Pondering on the import of what had happened, Daijen wondered if Karm was as impotent as he had supposed. It seemed possible that the goddess had been merely biding her time and hiding her power until the proper moment to strike. If that were so, then she had just revealed her hand for the sake of a woman.
 
This Yim is far more than an irritant 
,
 he thought.
 
She must somehow threaten my master 
. Daijen couldn’t imagine how a mortal could do that, but he didn’t doubt his conclusion. It made Yim’s destruction all the more urgent.

Daijen turned his thoughts to that end. He had learned little of use within the room, for whatever guidance his master had for him had been muddled and obscured. The Devourer’s hatred for Yim was vividly apparent, but the vision of her whereabouts had been reduced to jumbled fragments. Daijen recalled mountains as glimpsed through a nighttime fog. He assumed they were in Averen, for that was where Yim had been headed. The other images that formed in his mind had dissolved as quickly as smoke in wind. One scene kept arising and vanishing with such frequency that bits of it stuck in Daijen’s memory. Mountains. Buildings. He thought one building might have been walled. The other structures were smaller and clustered about it. And something large and bright lay nearby.
 
A lake perhaps 
. Daijen thought the scene showed either Yim’s hiding place or her destination.