Unhewn Throne 01 - The Emperor's Blades(190)

Uinian’s smile widened.

“Each of us serves the goddess in our own way,” he acknowledged. “I’m sure there are more … bureaucratic tasks that demand your attention. But tell me, why have you joined us today? Might I be so bold as to inquire if you come in penitence for your recent … errors?”

The man was bold indeed, to insult her to her face before the assembled citizens of Annur. Ran’s words came back to her: There is a time in every battle when you must act. There could be no half measures now.

“I come to illuminate my people, to bring them the truth.”

Uinian narrowed his eyes. He was on his own ground here, surrounded by his own people, hard on the heels of his recent triumph. He had nothing to fear from her, and yet, clearly he had not expected this line of attack.

“Illumination? Those eyes of yours may smolder, but they fail to cast much light.”

Adare ignored the gibe, turning instead to the congregation and raising her voice. “Your priest claims to be half divine himself.”

“No,” Uinian said firmly. “Just a faithful servant of the goddess.”

“He claims,” Adare continued, pressing on as though the man had not spoken, “that Intarra guards him from the flames. He lies.”

An angry chorus exploded at her charge. Those who came for the noon service were the heart of the faith, the most devoted. She was treading on very dangerous ground here. Uinian himself, however, held up a hand to still the congregation.

“Those who have seen, know the truth,” he said, “while those who have come now, questioning, will have it revealed.” He turned to gesture to the lens above him. “The goddess has graced us with her light this noon, and I will undertake the Trial once more, as a gesture of my faith.”

“Your faith is barren falsity.”

He turned to the crowd once more. “You hear now the sad and desperate recriminations of a house that will lie, even kill, to retain its grip on power. You hear the empty mewling of a tyrant so far fallen in her faith that she would utter bald untruths here in this holiest sanctum.”

Uinian leaned close then, pitching his voice for her ears alone. “Your father was a thorn in my side,” he murmured. “I was delighted by his death. But it is you, yourself, who have sealed the fate of your family.”

She almost vaulted over the wooden partition to claw out that smug smile. It was the memory of her father’s voice that restrained her: To rule over others, Adare, you must first learn to rule yourself. She could almost hear him, as though he stood at her shoulder, his words staying and steadying her.

“You will fail,” she replied simply.

The Chief Priest shook his head and turned to the altar.

“Behold,” he said, raising his hands to the great lens as though inviting the heat, “the grace of the goddess.”

Then, as the congregation drew in a great gasp, he stepped into the beam of molten light.

The stone beneath him smoldered as it had during the Trial, and, as during the Trial, he turned, triumphant, to the assembled multitude.

“Now,” Adare murmured.

In that moment, the assassin il Tornja had found for her stepped forward, a man dressed like the other Aedolians but carrying a thin wooden tube, a blowgun he called it. He raised the weapon to his lips and a dart flicked out, quicker than sight, catching Uinian in the neck.

“I have paralyzed your priest,” Adare announced, turning to the congregation, “to show you the truth.” There was no going back. She had moments only before the crowd realized what had happened, before it fell on her and destroyed her, and yet she had to speak clearly, calmly, to make them understand. “To show you that he is not a priest at all, not the favorite of Intarra, but a charlatan, worse, an abomination. The man you know as Uinian is a filthy leach, who would have you take his kennings for divine grace.”

Dozens of people were on their feet now, a few were shouting, and yet the crowd was confused, uncertain. I have time, she told herself. I have time.

“But how to tell a leach’s kenning from the love of Intarra, a miracle from a monstrosity? For a long time I pondered this question in my heart. How to know which is true, and which is treacherous?”

She turned to consider Uinian. He stood in the blaze, his arms stretched out as before, as though accepting the impossible light and heat, but there was something different, a bead of sweat on his forehead, a glint of fear in his eyes.

“Yesterday,” she pressed on, “I climbed to the top of Intarra’s Spear, to the old sacrificial altar of my family, to sit as close to the sun as I could, to meditate on this question, and Intarra spoke in my heart. The goddess reminded me that there is a way.”