David Dalglish - A Dance of Ghosts

The girl’s voice trailed off as Jayda elbowed her in the side. Together, they stood there, bowed, silent, and clearly afraid.

“Who is she?” Pelarak asked.

Jayda was the one to meet his eye this time.

“She used to be one of us,” she said. “But not anymore.”

Zusa, thought Pelarak, and the priest felt a familiar fire burn in his stomach. Would they never be free of that horrible woman? Pelarak stood, ran a hand through his gray hair. Now Daverik was dead, along with four others he’d trained, leaving just these two. The question was … what were they to do with them?

“Wake the rest of the elders,” Pelarak told Essau. “I would have us pray before the altar.”

“Can it not wait until morning?”

Pelarak put a hand on little Jayda’s shoulder, felt her tremble at his touch.

“No, it cannot.”

Down the hall he led the girls, back to the main worship chamber. Before the rows of pews towered the great statue of Karak, with purple fire burning in braziers at his beloved god’s feet, fires that would never dwindle or fade. They, like Karak, were eternal. Pelarak ordered the girls to kneel at the altar, which was still wet with the blood from that nightfall’s sacrifice. They crossed their hands in prayer, quiet and obedient, and it made the priest smile. No doubt they were troubled, scarred by witnessing Daverik’s death and now adrift with an uncertain future, but their souls must have been loyal, for in prayer before the statue of the Lion, they were calm, they were at peace. The same could not always be said of kings and wise men.

“Do not cease your prayers,” Pelarak whispered to them. “No matter what you hear, what my fellows discuss, never cease.”

They both nodded, eyes closed, never looking up.

The door left of the altar, which led to the various barracks and dungeons of the temple, opened, and out stepped Essau.

“They’ll be here shortly,” he said, standing beside Pelarak as they overlooked the statue. He gestured to the two girls. “I’m not sure I understand the need for haste. They’re members of the faceless, now and forever. Are we to choose another teacher?”

Pelarak crossed his arms, fingers digging into the thick, rough fabric of his robe. He’d never been pleased with the faceless, viewing it as an unpleasant necessity at best, a poor punishment at worst. When Eliora and Nava had died and Zusa gone rogue, he’d been content to consider the matter dead. But then had come Daverik, along with the backing of several prominent priests in Mordeina, all insisting it be started up anew. Against such pressure, he could not back down, especially since dogma was on their side. But that didn’t mean he had to like it, nor did he have to honor it … not if it went against Karak’s wishes.

“Our temples have played games,” he said. “And these poor girls have been caught in the middle. You ask what we are to do with them, and it is a question we must receive an answer to. But I will not consult books, nor tally votes among our elders. No, Essau, we will call for the voice of the Lion before we resort to lesser, imperfect measures.”

In groups of two and three came the rest of the elders, until all seven were there with Pelarak and Essau. They lingered about, speaking softly with one another. Still did Jayda and Lesha remain in prayer like proper students. Pelarak knelt beside each of them, putting his hands on their backs and closing his eyes so he might pray with them.

From the mouths of children, he prayed. May there be no other wisdom but yours.

With that, he stood, turned to address the various elders.

“I know the hour is late, but I believe we cannot delay,” Pelarak began, “for one of our own, Daverik, has been killed by the hand of our most shameful failure, the woman Zusa. These two, Jayda and Lesha, have come to us, for they are without home and master.”

“They cannot stay here,” the oldest of them all said, a pockmarked man named Geas. “It has been temple law since time immemorial. The faceless are not allowed to dwell within the holy ground.”

“Not so immemorial,” Pelarak said, turning to face Geas. “For we have writings from Theron the Wise, who first created the order, and he never decreed any sort of banishment.”

“But even Theron ordered them to eat and sleep separate from the rest,” Geas argued. “And in time, Karak imparted us wisdom as to the proper way of dealing with the greatest of betrayers.”

Pelarak struggled to keep his eyes from rolling. The greatest of betrayers? Before him were two girls, neither older than ten. He knew how they’d been taken, defiled by one of the priests in Mordeina. He’d received word that they’d removed the man’s genitals to ensure it never happening again, yet still they’d sent the two with Daverik, demanding they be made members of the faceless. There were a dozen punishments they could have been given instead, down to a mere few nights of fasting and prayer, but no, to Veldaren they’d come. Now they were his problem, and Karak damn it, he wanted the faceless buried and forgotten, not continuing on for decades because of these two young girls, their only fault merely being mice in front of a depraved snake.

“Our high priest did not bring us together to discuss dogma,” Essau said, preventing any further argument. “This matter must be settled once and for all.”

“The faceless have always been a stain upon our orders,” Pelarak said, addressing Geas in particular. “Already we have rules and punishments for those in our ranks who forfeit their shame to their sexual desires, and it is those we should abide by. I say we declare Jayda and Lesha free of the title, free of the wrappings, and introduce them back into the fold, where they may be raised as priestesses.”

“What you suggest is heresy!” said another of the elders.

“Perhaps,” Pelarak said. “But let us discover for ourselves. Let us hear the voice of the Lion decree their fates.”

“Karak will give you no answer,” Geas insisted. “Not when the answer is already known.”

“If we hear silence, then we will debate come the morning,” Pelarak said. “For now, prepare the candles and the knife. We have work to do.”

The ritual was one they’d all performed dozens of times, and they began their work in earnest. Perhaps it was out of duty, or faith, or merely wanting to go back to bed, but they arranged the candles in several concentric circles about the altar, as well as fetching the other required components, with record speed. As Pelarak watched, the ceremonial knife in hand, Essau slid over to him, back to the others as he murmured.

“You know Karak does not like to involve himself with our discussions of dogma,” said the priest. “It is beneath him.”

“Perhaps,” Pelarak said, eyeing the two girls. “But you’ve felt it, haven’t you? Karak’s presence … it’s heavier upon our city. Something approaches, some moment or crossroads … and I think tonight, he will answer.”

Essau glanced to the others, frowned.

“I pray you are right, because those two won’t stay in this temple otherwise.”

The circles made, the candle lit, the girls bowing before the great statue of Karak, all was completed as Pelarak took the knife and stepped through the ring of priests that stood with their arms raised to the ceiling. His mouth suddenly dry, he knelt and took a silver bowl from the feet of the statue and placed it before the two girls on the altar. He saw Jayda’s eyes flick open just a moment, widening at the sight of the bowl. She’d be the first, Pelarak decided.

“We seek the voice of the Lion in a world that has known only silence,” Pelarak said, reaching out and taking Jayda’s hand in his.