The Killing Moon (Dreamblood #1)(81)
Sunandi squared her shoulders. “They are Gatherers of Gujaareh, Esteemed—the Hananjan priest Ehiru and his apprentice, Nijiri. I have brought them here on their request. They too seek the counsel of the Protectors.”
There were murmurs of surprise at this, and several of the Protectors whispered quickly to one another. Finally the woman in the middle said, “I cannot imagine what Gujaareh’s unholy priests would want of us.”
“Information, Honored Elder,” Ehiru said in formal Sua, his voice prompting another stir among the Protectors. He saw Sunandi glance at him in consternation as he violated some sort of protocol, but he did not care. He had too little time left to waste on propriety.
“Many disturbing events have occurred in my land of late,” he said. “A Reaper walks the streets of the capital, unchecked and perhaps abetted by those in power. Twenty men—” He glanced at Sunandi. “Twenty men and the Speaker’s girl are known to have died at its hands. I have been blamed for the Reaper’s attacks, yet freed on the condition that I Gather Speaker Jeh Kalawe. And now your own soldiers have encountered Gujaareen troops in the Empty Thousand, again trying to kill the Speaker. I want to know why so many of my countrymen want this woman dead.”
The old woman raised both eyebrows into her faded hairline. “You believe we know?”
He inclined his head to her. “I believe there must be a reason the Prince corrupts himself and risks war with Kisua to conceal the secrets this woman carries. I believe there is a reason the Hetawa aids him, and allows the Reaper to exist. And I believe, though I have nothing but my instincts for proof, that all these things are somehow connected. No one in my land who knows the truth can be trusted. Perhaps outlanders are the answer.”
There was another susurrus in the chamber as the Protectors whispered among themselves. Sunandi threw Ehiru a sidelong glance. “You are a greater madman than I thought,” she murmured in Gujaareen.
He nodded, unamused. Very soon it would be true.
Presently the Protectors concluded their discussion. “Very well, Gatherer of Gujaareh,” said the old woman. “Half the things we have heard from our spies lately are so incredible we hardly know what to make of them. Perhaps an exchange of information will give us answers as well.” Then she glanced at one of the other Protectors, who scowled mightily before finally sighing.
“I must caution you that our information is incomplete,” the man said. “But it begins several years ago when our Shadoun allies found a tomb in the western desert foothills, far off the usual trails. They found it because it had been recently disturbed—robbed. The robbers fled north toward Gujaareh. We did not think this important at first, though of course we had the matter investigated. We now believe the tomb was that of Inunru—first Gatherer and founder of your faith.”
Nijiri frowned in confusion and blurted, “But his tomb was lost centuries ago, and would be sacred to us now. Why would any Gujaareen desecrate—?” Sunandi threw him a glare and he subsided immediately.
“Your apprentice speaks true, Gatherer, if out of turn,” the old man said, giving Nijiri an equally quelling eye before focusing on Ehiru again. “It is good to know that you at least preserve a proper reverence for the history of your faith, if not the proper manner of worship.”
Ehiru lifted his chin. “Some might say we preserved both better than Kisua, Honored Elder. Magic was once used here, too.”
The old man gave him a sour glare. “That was before we realized the horror of such power.”
“Perhaps. But what has that to do with the present matter?”
“We did not know, until last night when we read Kinja’s report as delivered to us by Jeh Kalawe.” The old man sighed. “Many centuries ago, here in Kisua, the first priests who dabbled in dream magic began to go mad, or so our own lore says. Inunru—who too was at risk—studied them in hope of determining the cause and cure. A century later when magic was banned and his followers banished, most of Inunru’s records were destroyed lest the knowledge they contained linger and flourish again, like a pestilence.” The old man’s lip curled. “But there have always been tales that some of Inunru’s followers managed to smuggle several scrolls out of the city.”
“We always believed,” said the old woman, “that the scrolls were in Gujaareh. But apparently they were lost to your people as well… until lately.” She looked at Sunandi, her expression bleak.
Sunandi nodded slowly. “I saw a locked case in the Prince’s quarters. That is where he keeps them, I believe.”
“Hmm.” The old woman looked weary, as if she had not been sleeping well. An overabundance of dreambile, a part of Ehiru’s mind catalogued, while the rest of him listened, as numbed as if by a sleep-spell. “Yes. It was the Prince’s men who raided the tomb, or so we believe. All this madness began after that.”
Sunandi took a deep breath. “And it explains many other things, Esteemed.” She looked at Ehiru, though she continued speaking to them. “My mentor Kinja long suspected that the Prince planned a war. His contacts warned him of the Prince’s negotiations with several northern tribes to forge a military alliance. And there had been a spate of unusual imports—heavy wood and iron, northern shipbuilding artisans, and the like, though all that trickled off a few years ago. But several months ago, Kinja also learned that the Prince had deliberately created a Reaper. He controls the creature using secret knowledge—doubtless from the stolen scrolls. The creature was used as an assassin, killing all who might interfere with the Prince’s plans. The deaths resembled natural causes. Kinja, Kinja himself may have…” Here she faltered for just a moment, visibly fighting emotion.