16. Vessel

Chapter sixteen

Vessel

S ix figures entered the tomb. Five wore the traditional brown of the Children, complete with masks depicting contorted animals or birds of prey. The robes of the sixth, the highest among them, bled scarlet. Their face was covered by a mask of smooth, featureless skin. There were no eye holes, yet the figure maneuvered around the water and up the steps of the crypt with practiced ease. On the leader's head sat a golden banded crown adorned with seven massive diamonds, five of which pulsed in unison with crimson light as if tethered to some beating heart.

As the crimson-clad figure passed, each of the Children bowed and muttered, "Vessel."

Ritual demanded this visit before each sacrifice. Only Irina herself could determine who was worthy.

Vessel drifted across the shallow water and ascended the altar's steps to stand before the golden tomb.

Prophecy loomed from its ebony slate.

Power crackled in the air.

After a moment of reverent reflection, Vessel turned and motioned for the others to proceed.

Four of the Children placed lit candles at intervals along the outside edge of the water, then moved to the inner edge and repeated the process. The fifth, wearing the mask of a fox with the horns of a ram, approached Vessel with a ceremonial dagger proffered in outstretched hands. Vessel took the dagger, but Fox remained with arms extended and palms up.

Fox muttered a few words, and the room flared with opalescent light.

When the light faded, a snow-furred lamb materialized in Fox's arms, squirming to get down. With one quick stroke, Vessel sliced the lamb's neck, exchanged the dagger for the lamb, and placed the bleeding corpse onto the tomb.

Gold turned burgundy, then black.

When the tomb was coated in blood, Vessel lifted the lamb and handed it back to Fox, who placed it into the water and retreated to the other side where the others waited silently.

The shimmering crystal pool began to bleed.

Vessel lifted the crown from its brow, raised it high above its head, and cried out, "E VESH IRINA!" They then placed the crown in the center of the bloody tomb.

The candles flickered, and a torrent of wind whirled about the chamber.

The crackling of magic became thunderous as a single bolt of lightning streaked from the prophecy to the crown.

Thick, iridescent smoke rose in its wake.

No one moved.

No one breathed.

When the smoke dissipated, the ghostly image of a woman in a flowing gown towered above the tomb. Her sharp, angular nose jutted from an otherwise unremarkable face.

Her eyes blazed.

"Why do you wake me, Vessel?" the woman demanded. She sounded distant, her voice that of a ship rending before surrendering to the deep.

Vessel fell to their knees and pressed their forehead to the bloody marble floor. "Most Exalted Empress, we are your humble servants in all things. We come at your command. The heir is ours."

The ethereal woman's eyes widened, and a smile that bore no pleasure parted her lips. "How long before you perform the final ritual?"

"Days, my Empress, perhaps a week. The King is rallying troops to invade our neighbor, so we must remain cautious to protect the heir from prying eyes."

The woman nodded. "A thousand years I have waited, dreaming of a thousand ways to destroy this pitiful land and its feckless people. Days mean nothing. Protect the heir. The fool king does my bidding, whether he knows it or not. Do not summon me again until the final ritual."

"Yes, Empress. As you command."

Lightning struck the crown again as thunder clapped so loudly those remaining fell to their knees and covered their ears.

The woman vanished.

The chamber became deathly still.

Vessel rose, blood dripping from forehead to cheek.

Days . . . only a few more days.