Chapter 35

The sun had gone down while they were inside. The street was filled with new shadows that curled out from doorways and flowed down from the eaves. A cat yowled from a rooftop. A stray breeze blew a scrap of cloth along the ground. There was smoke in the air.

“You’ll see,” Wendin said, closing the door behind them. “Wait until you hear the Voice. Then you’ll see.”

Still holding the knife, Tara waved them down the street and then fell in behind them. Wendin seemed to have forgotten about the knife. She chattered on as they walked, telling them about the wonders of the world to come when Melekath returned and how lucky they were to be among the first to follow him.

Netra wanted nothing more than to run. If Siena hadn’t been with her, she probably would have. Tara didn’t look all that healthy. Netra was sure she could outrun her.

“I’m sorry, Netra,” Siena whispered to her. “I should have listened to you.”

“I don’t like your whispering,” Tara said, putting her hand on Siena’s shoulder and bringing the knife close to her back. “It makes me think you will be among the faithless.”

“I’m sure that’s not it,” Wendin said with a skittering laugh that died as soon as it was born. “They’re just nervous. Remember how we were nervous our first time?”

“The faithless receive no mercy,” Tara said into Siena’s ear.

“There is no need to threaten us,” Siena said. Her face was pale. “We agreed to go, and go we will.”

They turned onto a street that was crowded, everyone heading toward the center of the city. The street led to a large plaza in the center of the city. People filled every inch of the plaza and more were crammed onto rooftops. Mothers carrying babies, elderly people leaning on canes, children, young men—it looked as if every person in Nelton had come to the gathering.

Fires guttered on braziers around the plaza, lighting up a wooden platform that had been constructed on the far side, up against the palace wall. The palace gate opened and a man dressed in rich robes emerged, followed by several other men who were also well-dressed. They climbed up onto the platform.

“Kneel,” Tara said, going to her knees and pulling Netra down with her. Everyone else was going to their knees as well.

“Is he the Voice?” Siena whispered to Wendin once they were settled.

“No,” Wendin whispered back. “He’s the king. But he speaks for the Voice.”

“It is once again my pleasure to speak to you of wonderful news,” the king said. Though he did not shout, somehow his voice carried easily to them. “Father is returning!”

A cheer went up from the crowd.

“The prison will collapse any day now!”

More cheers. Some people were openly crying.

The king waited for silence to return before speaking again. “He wants me to tell you that he misses you, as he missed all who have come and gone since he was locked away. He wants you to know that he does not blame you for what others did so long ago, when they warred on him and his Children.”

Now a great many people were weeping. Netra exchanged looks with Siena. This was not what she had expected at all. What was going on here?

“When Father is once again free,” the king continued, “he will come here and he will offer you the Gift, the same Gift he gave his Children so long ago.”

A sigh went over the crowd. Netra wished she were far away. The Book of Xochitl said Melekath’s Gift perverted those people who took it, turned them into abominations. Why did these people want it? What was wrong with them?

“That is enough from me,” the king said. “I know it is not me that you came to see. With no further delay, I present to you the Voice!”

An awed hush fell over the crowd. From the palace gate emerged a very tall, slender figure, cloaked and hooded in white. The figure climbed the platform and looked out over them. It towered over the king and was probably eight feet tall.

The figure pushed the cloak back, revealing a face of wondrous beauty and long, golden hair.

Netra felt Siena squeeze her hand. Her confusion increased. The Voice was so beautiful. Why had she been afraid of it? It seemed as well that she could no longer hear the wrongness in the Song that she’d heard before. How could she have been so wrong?

The Voice tilted its head back—its beauty was androgynous, neither male nor female—and began to sing.

There were no words. It was utterly amazing. Netra had never heard a sound so beautiful, so rich. It was so calm, so perfect. She felt her fears slip away and a deep sense of peace and calm descend over her. She had been a fool to be afraid. Father was coming. He would take care of everything.

From the Voice’s mouth came a cloud of tiny golden flakes, like bits of sunlight. The flakes flew up into the sky and out over the crowd, and then they began to settle. Still kneeling, people reached up, crying with delight as the flakes settled on them. Netra and Siena reached up as well.

Netra longed for the touch of those flakes of gold. She wanted the peace that the Voice was offering. So far they had only settled on those people closest to the Voice. Those further away, like she was, would have to wait.

But something was nagging at her. It felt like there was a weight hanging around her neck. She wanted to be rid of it and reached to pull it off.

Her hand closed on her sonkrill and suddenly she was pulled beyond.

Netra gasped at what she saw.

The flakes were not golden, but black, like ashes. The beautiful figure of the Voice was gone and in its place stood a creature of pestilence and disease. It was gaunt, withered, the bones standing out sharply under the skin. It was bald. The eyes were empty holes, the mouth gaping and toothless. Weeping sores covered much of its body.

The black flakes were settling on people nearby and when they landed on people’s akirmas they stuck there, black stains that joined stains that were already there. This was what was affecting the Song here. These people were diseased at a fundamental level.

Netra left beyond and turned to Siena. “We have to go!”

But Siena did not reply. She had her arms over her head, a huge, beatific smile on her face.

Netra shook her. “We can’t let those things touch us! They’re not what you think they are!”

Siena tried to shake her off. The flakes were very close now. They had only seconds. Even if they were to run now, it probably wouldn’t help.

Desperately, Netra grabbed the edge of Siena’s traveling cloak and jerked it over her head, pulling her onto her side and covering her as best she could. Then she pulled her cloak over herself and threw herself on top of Siena, pinning her to the ground.

Siena struggled underneath her and cried out, but Netra held on as best she could. It didn’t have to be long. Soon the flakes would all settle to the ground and then she could let her go. She only prayed that she’d guessed right and the cloaks would protect them.

The first flakes fell. Even through the cloak she could feel them. Netra held her breath, hoping.

“What are you doing?” she heard Tara yell. Hands grabbed her and pulled her off.

Netra rolled over and saw with relief that there were no more flakes above her.

Then she saw the glint of the knife in Tara’s hand and felt a new fear.

          

“You refused his blessing!” Tara said shrilly, holding up the knife. Her face was contorted with rage. She had moved in front of Netra, her back to the platform where the Voice stood.

“No, we didn’t.” Netra jumped up and tried to back away, but she only got a couple steps. People were packed too closely around them and a number of them were starting to look at her accusingly.

Suddenly, Netra sensed something malevolent and she glanced away from Tara, over her shoulder. The Voice was staring at her, its gaze palpable even from this distance.

“I knew we couldn’t trust you,” Tara hissed, grabbing onto Netra’s cloak. “Now I’m going to cut you.”

Then the Voice raised one arm. Its hand opened and something black and toothy and snake-like appeared in its palm.

The toothy thing lifted into the air and shot at Netra.

Netra jerked back, trying to free herself, but Tara tightened her grip, her teeth baring in a snarl.

“You’ll pay for—”

At the last instant, Netra shoved her.

The toothy thing struck Tara in the back and her eyes went very wide. Her mouth worked soundlessly. Almost instantly the veins in her face turned black and swollen.

Then she toppled forward, trying with her last strength to swing the knife at Netra.

Netra stood there frozen, staring down at Tara’s corpse, trying to grapple with what she had just done.

Siena reacted first. She grabbed Netra’s arm, pulling her down into a crouch. “Get down!” she yelled.

The man directly behind Netra shrieked as another of the black, toothy things struck him in the chest, just missing Netra.

Running bent over, the two women fled the plaza. More screams as other people were struck but the Voice could no longer see them and as the panic spread others began to flee the plaza as well, the chaos that ensued helping them escape.

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