What people call the Red Temple is actually a citadel with many buildings connected by a network of vaulted walkways. The true temple sits at the heart of the citadel, directly beneath the Ruby Paragon, and it is here that mystics come to commune with the Mother. As far as Isa knows, only mystics and votaries—folk who forsake their clans and dedicate their lives to the Mother—are allowed inside.
Which is why she stops when the Arc opens the temple’s looming doors and walks in without a word.
He tosses back a questioning look when he notices she’s not following.
“But Your Worship,” she says. “I am unsanctified. I am neither mystic nor votary. I cannot walk through these doors.”
The Arc smiles grimly. “I am the high priest of this temple, Your Majesty, and I say you are welcome. Now please follow me.”
They say that death comes quickly to the unsanctified who linger in the Mother’s presence, but Isa lacks the courage to disobey, so she runs a finger over her heart, mumbles a quick prayer, and steps gingerly across the threshold, following Itani Faro into the antechamber and down a dingy staircase.
They come to a floor whose high ceiling and walls of stone are tinged red by floating ruby lights caught in artistic wicker contraptions. Thick pillars and a low circular wall surround a pool of water several yards from the foot of the staircase. The Arc says nothing until they stop next to the pool. An eerie pink glow dances over the water, concealing its depths. A nervous shiver tells Isa it’s probably much deeper than it looks.
“What do you know of the Covenant Diamond, Your Majesty?”
She pulls her gaze away from the pool, surprised by the unexpected question. “Only the stories I was told as a child, Your Worship. To become princes, eleven men sacrificed their kin to the Shirika—excuse me, to an ancient cabal of mystics.” Isa looks away from the sorcerer. “They built a pyre so big it burned fiercely enough to compress everything into a single yellow diamond, and when all was said and done, their princedoms were sealed in blood. Is there any truth to the stories?”
If the Faro is offended by her slip of the tongue, there is no trace of disgust in his voice. “It is true that the Diamond was made from the ashes of the pyre, but that was many days after the fires were extinguished. But yes, the stories are unusually accurate given the fickle nature of legends.”
Shock bleaches Isa’s fear away, and she manages to meet his gaze again. “So the Covenant Diamond really exists? But . . . what is it, really? More importantly, where is it?”
“Both very important questions,” the Arc says. “Possibly the two most important questions any KiYonte could ask. The Covenant Diamond holds the Blood curse that brands every child born to a KiYonte man with his clan mark. So long as the Diamond exists, the curse will carry on, and so will the marks.”
“So the Diamond must be destroyed to get rid of the marks,” Isa concludes.
“Precisely. Which brings us to your second question: Where is it? Let me ask you a question, Your Majesty: If you were a mystic and you were tasked with the Diamond’s safekeeping, where would you put it?”
“Something so important . . .” Isa bites her lip while she thinks about it. “Somewhere no one can get to, perhaps even somewhere I myself couldn’t get to once I put it there, in case I was later coerced into finding it.”
The Arc offers her the ghost of an approving smile. “And that, Your Majesty, is precisely what happened. The young mystic who was given charge of the Diamond after its creation hid it in such a place as you’ve described, and you happen to be standing right next to it.”
Isa’s eyes fall to the water. “You mean this pool?”
“This isn’t just a pool. This is a one-way portal to a chamber in the temple’s innermost courtyard, a repository of powerful knowledge and artifacts that must remain hidden until such a time that they must be found—such a time when someone with the key to that chamber arrives.”
The Arc begins to walk around the edges of the pool, dragging one scarified hand along the low wall and the pillars. His eyes gleam longingly in the water’s pinkish glow. He stops and stares at Isa from across the pool.
“To destroy the curse, a mystic who holds this key must retrieve the Diamond from the chamber, but the rules are such that whoever this mystic is, they cannot be coerced into doing so. Retrieving the Diamond must be something they unquestionably want to do, or the chamber will not reveal it to them.”
Isa braces herself, sensing she’s about to learn what heavy price she will have to pay. “Do you possess this key, Your Worship?”
What do you want for it?
“I do not.”
Confused, Isa frowns. “Oh?”
“But I know someone who does. The first part of your task will be . . . manipulating him into retrieving the Diamond for us.”
Isa blinks. “Manipulating, Your Worship?”
“The inner sanctum contains millennia’s worth of knowledge, Your Majesty,” the Arc says, his eyes flashing. “Dangerous knowledge, and this individual holds the key to it. Our only advantage is that he is not aware of what he holds, because if he were, we would all be in grave danger. So yes, he must be handled deftly.”
A game piece on a board can do nothing but accept what is given to it. I came to him thinking I was taking control of my destiny, but what if I’ve been maneuvered here? “And the second part of my task?” Isa says, so quietly she almost doesn’t hear her own voice.
The Arc gazes at the pool for a good long while, and Isa could swear she can sense him convincing himself to say what he says next: “You will have to die, Your Majesty. It is the only way to destroy the Covenant Diamond.”
39: Musalodi
On the Way to the World’s Vein—Kingdom of the Yontai
Salo is rummaging through Mukuni’s saddlebags for his medical supplies when the ferrywoman and her sons return from belowdecks looking rather peeved. While her sons set up their musical instruments, the ferrywoman scans the deck thoroughly, marks the new passenger with a hard gaze, and then frowns at Salo in a way that would have killed him were frowns given to such a thing.
She seems even more incensed as she glares at his shards, which are still making up for the large stream of processed arcane energy he borrowed from the future when he cast the lightning barrier.
He breathes a sigh of relief when all she does is shake her head resignedly and join her sons. Soon their music summons a waterbird spirit to power the ship into motion.
“Now I understand why they didn’t want us around,” Salo mutters as he crouches next to Tuk with his bag of medicines. “They probably knew what was coming.”
Tuk has slumped against a crate on the main deck. He’s trying to stanch his bleeding arm with the other hand, but it isn’t quite working. A worrying pallor has washed over his skin. He gives a wan smile. “Meh, I don’t pity them. They could have at least warned us.” He glances at Salo’s glowing shards with a questioning look. “Are you still casting spells?”
“Technically,” Salo says as he wipes his hands with a moist disinfecting reedfiber cloth from the bag, “I’m drawing essence for spells I’ve already cast.”
“I don’t understand.”