The wind runner book 10.., p.74
The Wind Runner: Book 10 (The Wandering Inn), page 74
The Quarass lives.
But Venith had seen her die. He glanced at Maresar and shook his head. Germina was a Shield Kingdom. Ancient. It had been defeated easily enough on the battlefield, but Venith knew that a kingdom’s power wasn’t always based in the force of its army. There were old secrets. And he feared Germina had at least a few. So he waited. He wondered where his [King] was. Usually, you could spot him by the crowd. And the commotion.
——
There was a crowd. But the King of Destruction would not have been welcome in it. They were gathering as Venith had noticed, in a plaza too small to hold all of them. But they had chosen it precisely because it was out of sight of the palace. The people of Ger waited as a group of men, all former [Councilors], [First Warriors], or [Highborn]—Ger had no [Lords] or [Ladies]—fussed at the center of the gathering.
They were a motley group, different in station and rank. Some were barely important and, had the Quarass been alive, the inner circle of men wouldn’t have deigned to consort with them. But two-thirds of the Quarass’ court had been slain when the King of Destruction had taken the palace. So those that remained weren’t in a position to quibble.
In fact, the leader of this group of men was a [Councilor of State], the only member of the Quarass’ council who’d survived. He was hardly a leader, but he had loved the Quarass as fiercely as the other men.
As they all had. All those gathered in the plaza, sitting, standing, were fixed on the circle in the center. The men, sixteen or so, formed a ring of bodies, shielding something, someone with their long robes. It was the [Councilor of State] who walked back and forth, murmuring to himself, glancing at the sun, which was nearly overhead. He was dressed in a colorful robe, bright scarlet, normally strange for a man to be wearing. It made him look like a splash of blood amid the white. Every eye followed him as he walked back and forth.
And he was afraid. You could see it if you looked in his eyes, so he kept his gaze upwards, towards the clear blue skies and relentless sun. He was waiting for it to be exactly midday, but the sweat that rolled down his face had as much to do with the fear churning away at him as the heat. The other men standing in the circle were likewise sweating harder than the crowd, and more than one of them followed the leader in red’s pacing back and forth. The others had to fight to keep from glancing behind them. They too were afraid.
Perhaps, had they been zealots, they might have clung to the righteousness of their purpose. They could have reassured themselves in the divinity of their task, the infallibility guiding them, that they were following a higher power. But faith was dead, as were the gods. So it was only men who gathered here. Men, who were desperately afraid that their gathering would be broken up, or worse, that they would fail.
The people of Germina had gathered here because they knew what must be done. They knew who waited in the circle of men in robes. If the men here failed—and oh, they could fail—they would be torn apart. If the King of Destruction’s soldiers were to interfere, if everything wasn’t right or something went wrong…
Sweat and fear hung in the air in the circle of men. But the crowd was just waiting. They were common laborers and highborn folk. Men and women. But those in the circle, those in charge, for now, were men.
Men. Not women, for all that there were just as many daughters of Germina in the crowd as sons, young and old. But that was the way of things. The Quarass ruled, female, her word law, her lineage passed from daughter to daughter. And it was men who found her when the Quarass died.
The last of the crowd entered the plaza as the sun finally reached its zenith in the sky. A few people pushed through the crowd, though everyone was fighting for a view. A sea of faces, and the feeling that this was an important moment.
In such atmospheres, an errant cough or someone who needed to use the bathroom precisely at the wrong moment stood out. The leader in red was afraid of each instance, afraid that anything ruining the sanctity of the moment would cause the ritual to fail. But there were so many.
A pair of crying babies provoked each other. Someone tripped, causing a small collapse in the crowd. Worst of all, one of the men in the circle hurried out, causing a ripple to run through the crowd. Every eye fixed on the man, a [First Warrior], equivalent to what other countries called a [Knight] in terms of rank, hurried over to the [Councilor of State].
“Dead gods, what is it? Get back to your place! We’re about to start!”
The [Councilor] scream-whispered at the [First Warrior]. The younger man was far more fit than he, but both were practically white in the face. The [First Warrior] shook his head.
“The—she’s thirsty. She needs a drink.”
“A drink?”
Belatedly, the [Councilor] realized he’d forgotten to provide for that simple amenity. The…person sitting in the circle of men, who’d closed ranks to avoid her being seen by the crowd, had been sitting for hours in the sun. The [Councilor] cursed.
“Water. Fine, then. Sands take it! Get some!”
“From where?”
“I don’t know! But hurry!”
The [Councilor] saw the [First Warrior] hesitate and then turn. He called out; his voice strangled.
“Water. We need water. Has anyone a flask?”
Silence. Then several people offered theirs. The warrior hurried around, grabbing the two nearest and disappeared into the circle. Standing at the edge of the circle, the [Councilor] heard a muffled voice, a quiet, female one. A child’s voice. And then the [First Warrior] hurried out. The circle made room for him, and he nodded at the [Councilor].
Good. All was well. All would be well. The [Councilor of State] wished he were dead. He wished someone else were in his position. If he got this wrong—
If he had been capable, he would have prayed. But the thought of prayer didn’t even cross the [Councilor]’s mind. So he was just afraid. But the sun was overhead. And so he began.
“People of Germina. Bear witness! Gather here, in this sacred heart of the city. Gather, and bear witness! The Quarass is dead! So gather, sons and daughters! Gather! I, the son of Ger, call to you! Gather and bear witness!”
The crowd shifted. All eyes were on the [Councilor] now, on his red robes. He felt his voice crack on the last sentence. Oh, dead gods, he’d said it wrong. It wasn’t ‘people of Germina’, was it? It was ‘children of Germina’ or was it—‘chosen of Ger?’ And was it sons or daughters or—what had the old woman he’d consulted say it should be? She’d told him to shout this without the crowd, but he hadn’t dared. It was all going to go wrong. It wasn’t going to work! And then what?
Everyone was staring at him. The [Councilor] froze, but there was nowhere to run. So his tongue went on as his mind began screaming.
“Gather! Gather together! Gather to bear witness! The Quarass has fallen! But Germina must live! So gather—”
He faltered. They were gathered. What should he do? He switched to the next part, stumbling over his words.
“Pay heed. Lay down your burdens and still your hearts. For you will bear witness to a resurrection. The Quarass has fallen. By blade, by war. By wrath and treachery, by the King of Destruction!”
That stirred the people in the crowd. The [Councilor] saw faces contort with fury. He went on.
“But now is not the time for vengeance. The Quarass is dead. Germina is broken. The sands will take the kingdom and wash the stones away to dust. Our blood shall soak the deserts, and no thing will grow. The kingdom needs its heart. So the Quarass must live.”
She must live.
The murmur came from the crowd, thousands of voices speaking as one. They hadn’t practiced it; it was spontaneous, and it dried the [Councilor]’s throat even more. He coughed.
“So—so we are gathered. To witness her rebirth. By blood of lineage, she will be called. By the needs of her people, she shall arise! By the will of Germina, she returns! Bear witness!”
Lies. All lies. The ritual called for the Quarass’ firstborn daughter. But her daughter was dead, killed in her bed six years past after trying to take the throne. The bloodline of the Quarass had ended with her. So they’d found a child. A girl who looked a bit like the Quarass. The old woman had said that might do. But she wasn’t sure. And the child was—a child.
But he was in too far. He’d never had a choice, really. He was the only one who knew the words, or so the others had been convinced. But the [Councilor] didn’t know the words. What he was shouting was a mix of what he could remember and what the old woman thought was supposed to be said. He was sure that ‘bear witness’ wasn’t supposed to be said so many times!
“So let three come forth. Three of the sands. Three of Chandrar. Of those gathered here, who has the will? Who will be chosen? The will of Germina calls you. Who will witness the Quarass and make the oath?”
This time, the crowd moved as one. Those sitting surged to their feet. Those standing crowded closer. The [Councilor] had to shout as the men in the circle locked arms, afraid they’d be rushed.
“Hold! Hold back! I will—choose among you.”
Only, here it all went wrong. The crowd was pushing forwards, and someone—the [Councilor] didn’t know who—shouted.
“The three aren’t chosen! One comes from foreign lands! One comes of Germina! And one comes as a child!”
The [Councilor] froze. And the crowd drew back. He looked to see who’d said it. It had been a young voice. Female. Worse, she’d sounded confident. The [Councilor] ran with it.
“Yes! Yes! One of Germina! Who will—”
A surge again. But the [Councilor] was ready. He jabbed a finger at a likely figure. He remembered one of the old three, an old woman who’d been the Quarass’ guide until her passing. The three had to be exemplary, so he pointed at a woman in the crowd.
“You. Name yourself!”
The figure he’d indicated stepped forwards as people looked at her. She hardly needed introduction as she gave her name.
“[Highborn] Vaitsha Zectiou. I am Vaitsha, daughter of Germina. I will witness the Quarass.”
She was one of the richest of the [Highborn] in the city. A powerful woman. The [Councilor] nodded, and she stepped forwards until she stood in front of the circle of men. She shot the [Councilor] a sideways look as he scanned the crowd.
The child was next. He didn’t remember a child—but the Quarass had been in power when he’d been born. So he pointed at a young boy.
“You. Do you have the courage to accompany the Quarass until her passing?”
The young boy shook and trembled in fear. He looked about to wet himself and stammered a string of gibberish. The [Councilor] knew he’d picked wrong. So he shook his head before the boy could speak again. He sought once more, found another boy in the crowd, this one older. Nine or so? He looked like a [Street Tough], if he had a class at all. But his eyes were piercing, and he didn’t waver as the [Councilor] pointed at him.
“You. Have you the courage to accompany the Quarass?”
“I do! And may I serve the Quarass and the sands take me if I have anything less!”
The youth shouted back. He had a scar above one eye, and, as he walked through the crowd, a large one on his uncovered left leg. At least he wasn’t a slave. What a mistake that would be!
Two down. But the last was suddenly a pressing issue for the [Councilor]. A foreigner? Germina had few foreigners in its capital before the war with Reim. And now—he shouted desperately.
“Who comes from foreign lands? Who of Chandrar will bear witness to the Quarass? Who will swear the oath?”
Then there was silence. The children of Germina looked around, suddenly wary. A foreigner? Any one of them would have volunteered, but according to the rules one voice had shouted—and the [Councilor] didn’t even know if they were real!—it had to be a foreigner. But who could that be? One of the [Soldiers] patrolling the streets? If they had to kidnap someone—
Fear. It was all going to fall apart. If a patrol happened by and they heard what was happening because the ritual took too long—they’d stationed people to ward off any patrols headed this way. But they had to have a third. The [Councilor] shouted again.
“Is there anyone not of Chandrar? Not born on Germina’s soil?”
He hoped someone in the crowd had been born outside of Germina. A cousin, maybe. Or a wife? A husband from afar? Anyone! He heard a few voices, and the crowd broke up, seeking the speakers. But then a figure bellowed, louder than the rest.
“I have come far, from lands where Germina’s name has long passed. I am a son of the sands, Chandrar born. I am not of Ger and was not born of its waters. But I will bear witness to the Quarass. I will swear the oath.”
The crowd parted. A giant strode forth, a tall man with dark skin, his features plain, but his arms and body huge. For all that, he looked intelligent, and he had a pair of glass spectacles on his broad nose. A [Scholar]? He glanced around, and people stared up at him. The [Councilor] could have wept.
“Yes! Come, then! And all bear witness! You three, stand before the circle. The Quarass is dead, but she must live!”
They were at the heart of it now, and hope was replacing fear in the [Councilor]’s chest. The three stood together, Vaitsha and—damn, the other two hadn’t named themselves!
No hope for it. The [Councilor] lifted his arms and turned, the ill-fitting red robe swirling around him.
“You three will bring her forth! The Quarass is dead, but the Quarass lives! Step forwards and claim her, chosen three! And swear an oath—”
He broke off. The bespectacled giant was looking at him. It was just a look, but it told the [Councilor] he’d erred somehow. The broad-shouldered man spoke, in a voice that carried across the crowd in a way that the [Councilor]’s shouting could not. The crying babies went silent. The gathering, already silent, went still.
“The Quarass is dead. Germina waits. So by Ger and by the blood of Quar, let the kingdom never pass in the shadow of the sun. Let the Quarass be reborn. So we gather here. Three. One of Ger, to remind the Quarass-to-be of who she was. One of childhood to follow the Quarass until her death and take it in her place. And one of distant sands, to tell her of what is and what must be. Let us bring her forth and swear our oath on blood and the stones of Ger to ever be her protectors.”
There was silence after that. And the [Councilor] felt something stir in his chest. The words struck home; they were too real to be fake. He sagged in relief. Someone else knew the old words!
“Yes. Yes, that’s—that is what must be done. So bring her forth. You three. Enter and call her name. And let it be the last time her name is ever spoken. Hear it, and know that who you find within is dead. And she will emerge the Quarass. Swear your oaths before her then.”
Like that, the circle of men opened. It was a precise movement, so that the crowd only saw the backs of the three before they stepped forwards and the circle closed. And then there was nothing.
No one spoke. No one moved. The [Councilor] heard very little, even as close to the circle of men as he was. He could see them looking outwards, arms linked, eyes wide. But what passed in the circle—no one could say.
There were voices. A female voice—that of Vaitsha. A rumble from the giant. A high-pitched voice from the youth, nervous despite his courage. And then—the [Councilor] heard a higher voice still. A girl’s tremulous words. A name, but he didn’t hear it. Then the circle opened, and the crowd saw her.
A girl. She was dressed in white, a simple dress of cotton. Her face was dark, and her eyes pale yellow. Her hair was parted in a widow’s peak and a warm black—that was slightly like the look of the old Quarass, though fifty years separated the two. This child couldn’t have been more than ten.
And she was a child. Not the Quarass. How could she be? The [Councilor] froze. He could feel the crowd rustle. But not like before. Now it was an ominous sound. They had been promised the Quarass. And the child who was shaking with nerves and fear was not her. Her dress was wet near the neck where she’d spilled some water on herself while drinking.
“Hold.”
The giant said the word before something could happen. He looked across the citizens of Germina, and the [Councilor], who had never prayed, tried to believe that he knew what was missing. Somehow, the foreigner did.
“Before the Quarass is reborn, she must accept the oaths of the three and hear her people call for her. So I stand here. A foreigner of the sands. Finder of the Quarass, charge me with my oaths.”
He pointed at the [Councilor]. The man jumped and stopped looking for a way to escape. He turned back, and again, his tongue took over for his brain.
“Do you swear to protect the Quarass, stranger of the sands? Do you swear to be her guardian and guide? If so, swear by blood. Swear on the stones of Ger, with all to witness!”
It was a desperate shout. The stranger nodded. He reached for his belt and pulled out a simple dagger of steel. He cut his arm, a powerful gash that made half the crowd wince. His blood ran down his arm as he held it out, letting his blood drip on the mud brick stones.
“I swear it by the Shield Kingdoms, by Germina’s soil and the Oasis of Ger. The Quarass lives, and let my flesh and blood spill upon the sands before hers.”
His words echoed. They shouldn’t have. But for a second, they rolled, like distant desert thunder. And for a second, the [Councilor] could swear he felt a breeze blow in the plaza. It smelled of distant lands. Of sands, a world unknown.
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. The fear in the [Councilor] went away. He felt a stirring in the air, like magic, but more powerful. He turned. Suddenly, there were words in his chest, and his eyes were alight.
“You. Child. Do you swear to protect the Quarass? Do you swear to be her guardian and companion? If so, swear by blood. Swear on the stones of Ger, with all to witness.”
The youth had no dagger. But there was a bit of mud brick broken on the ground. As if by chance, he bent and snatched it up. With a single furious slash, he opened his wrist. Blood dripped onto the stones.
