Chapter Five

Most of the Sanctuary's priests lived in a large communal residence near the center of the compound, but Ivathi Yarun was the head priest in the temple of the One Who Sleeps, arguably the most important god that the city worshipped. As such, Yarun had his own residence, a sprawling white villa that glowed red-orange in the late afternoon light.

Tanitha was admitted entry almost immediately, a fact that made her nervous— she had no idea what this was about, but the haste with which the servant at the front door acknowledged her when she gave her name bespoke at least some level of urgency.

The servant led her through the house's central atrium and out to a terrace that overlooked a small garden, its borders bursting with fronds, leaves, and richly colored flowers. Ivathi Yarun was there, seated on a cushion at a low wooden table that was spread with a simple meal. Though Tanitha saw him from afar with some regularity, she was still always surprised at how much older he looked than he did in her mind's eye. She supposed that was natural; most of her memories of him were from when she was a young child. He'd had a lower rank then, and he'd often been responsible for seeking omens about the will of the god he served regarding placement of the foundlings that came into the Sanctuary's care. Tanitha was fairly certain that for most people, no such omens were forthcoming, and so those placements were mostly a matter of his good judgment. Whatever the case, though, she'd been deeply grateful when he'd declared that she and Lithra were to remain together here in the Sanctuary.

Ivathi Yarun looked up as the servant motioned her through the door.

"Tanitha," he said, giving a small smile of welcome. "Please, join me."

Tanitha obeyed, crossing the tiled terrace to sit across from him on another cushion. His meal was simple, just plain bread and a dipping bowl containing olive oil that had been seasoned with hyssop. It struck her as strange— meals like that were common for people seeking purification, and there weren't any public rituals to be done tonight, or really at all until the Awakening. She supposed it might be for a personal matter, though, or a smaller ceremony that involved only the priests, perhaps.

She placed her palm to the hollow of her throat in a gesture of respect. " Ivathi , how may I serve?" she asked softly.

He gave her a kindly smile, though to her surprise, there was a hint of some strong emotion in his eyes. Sadness, perhaps? No, it was more than that. Grief, maybe? But for what cause?

"You serve well every day, from what I hear," he said. "Don't let such matters concern you right now."

She looked at him carefully. She was fond of Ivathi Yarun, but she hadn't had much cause to interact with him on an individual basis after she'd taken her role at the dovecote. In fact, she had often wondered if she'd disappointed him when she'd ‘lost' her nascent elementalist talents.

"I'm sorry for my tardiness," she said. "Truly. I only just received the message."

"Don't be sorry, dear girl. It's a pleasure to have such company at a meal." He smiled, the expression deepening the well-worn lines of his face. He poured a cup of wine for her. "From the Sanctuary's own vineyards," he said, setting the carafe down on the low table. "Harvested the year you were brought here. A finer year in foundlings than in wine, if only because of your arrival."

She blushed slightly. "You're very kind. But I know you had higher hopes for me than what I became."

He made a dismissive gesture. "It would have been a gift from the gods if you'd been what the demons hoped. But in truth, I'm glad you were able to stay in the Sanctuary. Our rulers, may the gods shower them with wisdom and strength, would have been very demanding in shaping you if you'd proven to share their blood."

"I'm sure they only seek to bring out excellence in our future leaders," Tanitha murmured, surprised that he'd make even this gentle suggestion of criticism toward the city's rulers. She took a sip of wine and had to force down a gag. It was among the most bitter she'd ever tasted. Which, she reflected, trying to keep her expression free of revulsion, did somewhat lessen his earlier compliment about the year being finer in foundlings than wine.

"It's true; their demands can be hard to bear, but they do it for both our good and theirs," he agreed, his voice heavy. He sighed, then tapped his cup with one finger, though he hadn't yet taken any wine himself. He probably wouldn't partake if she'd guessed right about the bread and hyssop, which meant that the wine was a courtesy to her as a guest.

"Have you ever been to the potter's yards, Tanitha?" he asked. "Not the ones who make the common urns and such. The ones in the artisan's district." Tanitha nodded, though she was feeling strangely uneasy. She kept catching glimpses of that earlier sorrow she'd detected in his expression, and she couldn't deduce any likely reason for it, nor for the need for a meal of purification.

"I used to watch the potters work, as a younger man," Yarun continued. "The process fascinated me. Their finer pieces were particularly interesting. The potters would put such time and craft into them, and then they would fire them again and again, burning out any imperfections, creating truly beautiful art." He toyed with his cup, and Tanitha took another small sip of the wine from her own, keeping a look of polite interest on her face despite the bitterness. "What astonished me was how often these pieces would shatter, and the whole process would have to be done anew." He looked up to meet her gaze, his own still heavy with that strange, sourceless sorrow. "Sometimes, I feel that the gods are similar to those potters," he said. "They require a specific result, and they send us through the fires as many times as need be to attain it. Some of us are made of finer clay, and we become the thing they wish us to be. And some of us simply shatter."

Tanitha hesitated. Her own long-standing uneasiness toward the matter aside, oracles and omens were matters far above her own status. They were nothing she should ask questions on, but he truly seemed troubled. She knew she had a gift for helping set people at ease, though, which was perhaps why he'd summoned her. Not for counsel or advice, perhaps, but just for a listening ear and kind words.

"Is something wrong, Ivathi ?" she asked finally. "Have the oracles delivered a message from the One Who Sleeps?"

His eyes glistened for a moment before he blinked the moisture back. "There are always messages," he said with a wave of one hand, giving her a weak smile. "Some good, some hard to hear, and harder to act on. But that isn't what I brought you here to discuss." Tanitha took another sip of her wine for politeness' sake. Yarun cleared his throat, then continued, "You've been chosen to serve for a year in Queen Naratha's palace."

Tanitha went still, sure she had misheard. Every year, the demons chose promising humans to live and work in close proximity to them for a time. It was considered one of the highest honors that someone low-born like her could aspire to. Sometimes such servants were even taken on permanently, rising to administrative positions of influence. Despite the whispers of the fates that befell servants who angered their demon masters, it was an opportunity that she'd never even dared to dream of.

"Why?" The question jumped from her unbidden, surprising even her.

"I've been instructed to tell you that your work has been exemplary," he replied. She bit her lip. Her work was exemplary. She'd made sure of it. No matter how secure things seemed, she'd often grappled with a need that bordered on obsession to ensure that the life she and Lithra had built wouldn't be taken from them. She wouldn't let that happen. For that reason alone, though, she ought to be leaping with joy at the prospect of such an opportunity.

And yet…

" Ivathi , may I ask when this message arrived?" she asked cautiously. She knew she should be excited at this but… well, two brushes with demonkind in one day felt like more than mere coincidence. And the first hadn't been under positive circumstances.

"Early this morning, just after first light," he replied. The answer did quite a bit to dispel her anxiety. This wasn't some underhanded way to get her into a position where she could be punished for her infraction without repercussion, in that case— the infraction hadn't even occurred yet when the decision had been made. Besides, she reminded herself, the city's rulers had no need to resort to underhanded methods.

"There's the matter of your compensation as well," Yarun was continuing. Tanitha nodded, a little surprised she hadn't begun to think on that matter. Perhaps it was just the heat of the day plus the wine, but her thoughts felt slightly clouded. Not that she'd had very much at all, she thought, frowning slightly at the amount left in her cup. She pulled her attention back to Yarun as he added, "Your needs will be provided for, so I've been instructed to ask if you'd like to send a portion of your wages to anyone. Your sister, perhaps?"

"Yes," she said, then swallowed; why did her mouth feel so dry? She refocused on Yarun, despite how drowsy she was feeling. "Yes, please," she said. She started to ask something, but then bizarrely, she couldn't remember what she'd wanted to say. She swayed slightly in place. Fires below, what was wrong with her? Was she taking ill? This was astonishingly poor timing, if so.

"I'm sorry," she said as she swayed again. "I think…" She couldn't finish the sentence, or indeed even the thought. Dark spots were crawling across her vision. She tried to steady herself, but to no avail; a few seconds later, she felt herself fall to one side against the floor, its stone cool against her skin.

"I'm so sorry, Tanitha." Yarun's voice, heavy with sorrow and defeat. She could barely comprehend the words before darkness claimed her.