Brightly Woven(74)

The priest turned back toward me expectantly, touching his scepter to my forehead. The king lit a small stick of incense that burned with the smell of jasmine and sandalwood and held it out to me. I opened my hand to take it from him, but his other hand closed over mine. The priest began his strange speech again, waving his scepter above our heads twice. I would have dropped my hand from the king’s sweaty grip had the priest not suddenly wrapped our joined hands together with a long, golden string. Suddenly the priest stopped speaking. All those in the hall turned their eyes toward me, the priest leaning forward as if to say it was my turn.

I nodded slowly, biting my tongue. That seemed to satisfy the two men, who broke out into smiles that turned my insides to stone. What exactly had I just agreed to?

I maintained my composure through the rest of the strange ceremony; they seemed to find it appropriate that the vessel of their goddess was reserved in both her words and outward affection. When the cord unwrapped itself from our hands like a snake, I snatched my hand away, withdrawing it into my cool, dry robes.

Men and women were allowed to approach us then, stooping to place small gifts at our feet. At least, I assumed they were gifts until the king turned and spoke to me.

He waved his arm over the piles of fruit, weapons, and tools that surrounded us. “These are the requirements for your miracle, my Great Lady,” the king said. “The Book mentioned the weapon you would construct for us from these parts. Everything is here.”

I stared helplessly at the floor, feeling the pull of panic. There had to be a way I could play this.

“I claim no such power,” I said. “You have misread the Book.”

“My Great Lady,” the priest said, his eyes narrowed slightly, “I assure you that we have interpreted the Book correctly. Please bless us with your power.” I heard the crowd murmur.

“I can’t…,” I mumbled.

“Silence!” the king bellowed to the nobles. He turned back to me, speaking in the same strange language as before, studying my face closely for any sign of recognition.

“She does not understand the holy tongue,” the queen said shrewdly from her throne.

“Is that so?” The king seized me by the shoulders, giving me the slightest of shakes. He spoke again in the language I didn’t understand, his words punctuated with flying spit.

My entire body began to shake, and I tried to pull away. “Let me go!” I cried, but the king was still shouting at me in that horrible speech.

“If I may interrupt,” a voice called over the others. “I think you may need to give her a moment.”

Dorwan stood at the very back of the chamber in his pale coat, and for the first and only time, I was actually relieved to see him. The king released me immediately, and I stumbled back.

“Get that lying demon out of here!” the king bellowed, sounding nothing like the gentle man I had met in private. “Throw him into the ocean for all I care! Let this be a lesson to everyone never to trust a wizard!”

A small troop of guards rushed toward Dorwan, but the wizard merely held out his hands to stop them.

“I tried to warn you that not all of her powers would have awakened yet,” Dorwan said, coming closer to us. No one stepped in his way or tried to block his path, but many eyed him with a look of revulsion that had nothing to do with the scars on his face.

“You have brought me a false goddess.” The king sneered.

“I have brought you the goddess of destruction herself,” Dorwan said. “She is everything you need to crush Palmarta, just as your Book said.”

“Lies, lies, all lies,” said the king, pushing him away, down the steps. Dorwan reached into his pocket without thinking, to the talisman hidden there. If he revealed himself, there would be no chance for either of us.

I did what I had to do, what my heart, faith, and resolve told me. I left myself open to Astraea’s will.

“I’ll prove my power to you,” I said, proud of how strong my voice sounded. “I’ll prove myself.”

Dorwan’s eyes narrowed, searching for my motives. The king looked back and forth between the two of us. No one spoke. Even the priest remained silent.

Finally, the king said, “If she cannot level a mountain at the very least, I will have both your heads, but first I shall feed parts of your bodies to my dogs while you are still living.”

I nodded, pressing a hand to my heart. Dorwan was no longer the architect of this game. “Choose a mountain, and we will leave at once.”

Beatrice had time only to throw a fur cloak over my shoulders and give my arm a gentle squeeze before I was loaded into a carriage to begin our journey up the long road to the coastal mountains. I glanced back through the small back window, to the queen and noblewomen who had been left behind.

I shared the trip with Dorwan and two guards, whom the wizard had sent into slumber with a wave of his talisman; the driver sat on the outside of the enclosed carriage. I had hoped Dorwan would get into one of the other carriages with the king and the rest of the nobles, but he had stubbornly pushed himself into the carriage after me and shut the door firmly behind him. Now he watched me carefully.

“What spurred this plan?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the grinding of the carriage wheels. “What could you possibly be thinking?”

“I’m wondering how you’ll feel when your plan unravels, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it,” I said.