In the center of the hall, a third version of the fourfold statue rose from a perfect square of polished white marble. Unlike the statues in the Court of Four and the inner sanctuary, this was no ornate symbol of prestige or devotion, displayed to the crowds to rekindle the wonder of their gods. This was real. The air was heavy with the weight of something intangible but undeniable, sharp as incense, though none burned in the empty braziers at each of the four corners of the dais. My knees trembled and I fought the urge to sink to the ground, overwhelmed by something I could not name.
A small sound made me turn to see Teo trembling at my side, his spear hanging forgotten in one limp hand. His throat worked up and down as he stared at the statue.
“It’s all right,” Pennaret said, appearing at my elbow. “I’m sorry, Lady Daired, Master Guardsman. I should have warned you.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Not something that can be easily put into words,” he said, “and certainly not by me. The High Cantor may be more suited to the task.”
With difficulty I tore my gaze from the faces of the Fourfold God high above and looked in the direction Pennaret pointed. At a second glance I realized the ground on which the images of the gods stood was not smooth marble after all. Before each facet a diamond-shaped recess had been carved into the stone, each filled to the brim with the element appropriate to each facet of the god it represented. Rich earth before Janna, smoldering coals before Mikla, and though I couldn’t see the north side of the statue, I guessed the ancient faithful had filled the place at Odei’s feet with something representing the lightning-pierced clouds of a sacred thunderstorm.
Gathered around the rim of the dais opposite Thell, a small knot of men and women stood with their heads bent close together. One of them stood a little apart, looking intently into the pool of water at Thell’s feet. Even from the distance it was clear what caused their unease. The surface of the pool was writhing and roiling as if stirred by a miniature tempest, though there was not a breath of wind in the hall.
One of the men by the pool caught sight of us. He was clad simply in gray, but the look of authority in his aged face was unmistakable. “Master Tavin, who are these people?” High Cantor Tauren asked sharply.
The other cantors fell silent and turned to face us with expressions ranging from shock to suspicion and even, in one of the youngest, panic. “You dare bring unconsecrated city-folk into Hallowhall?” one of the lesser cantors sputtered. “High Cantor, this is grounds for immediate dismissal!”
“Peace, please. I’m sure Master Tavin has excellent reasons for this unorthodox visit. Let him explain.”
Pennaret bowed his head. “I know the customs, my lord, and I ask your forgiveness for breaking them. I wouldn’t do it if it weren’t important.” Head still bowed, he motioned for me to go forward. When I made no move, he gave me a sidelong glance and mouthed a shaky tell him!
I swallowed the lump that had settled in my throat and took a step forward, then another. It was impossible to ignore the weight pressing down on my chest the closer I approached the statue. A few feet from the dais I could go no farther. I curtsied, trembled, and sank to one knee, touching four fingers to my forehead. “High Cantor, my name is Aliza Daired and this is my guardsman, Master Teo.” A ripple ran through the cantors at the name Daired. “I would like to speak with you about what’s coming.”
The ripple before Thell deepened to a wave.
Whispers rose in the still air, but at a motion from the High Cantor, the whispers ceased. “Return to your posts, my friends,” he said. “I will summon you again if we need to take further council. In the meantime, I would talk with Lady Daired alone.”
Amidst various hushed protests the cantors obeyed, all performing the fourfold gesture and touching their foreheads, lips, and heart before backing away to the stair.
“You as well, Master Tavin,” the High Cantor said, resting a wrinkled hand on Pennaret’s shoulder. “Take the young man here and wait at the gate.”
Pennaret bowed and did as he said. So did Teo, albeit with a less graceful bow and a look in my direction that was half question, half a plea for permission. At my nod he fairly jogged toward the stairs.
“Don’t misunderstand me, child,” the High Cantor said when the two were out of earshot. “It is for Catriona’s sake I allow you to stay. Impolitic as it may have been to express it thusly, my learned friend was right: it was wrong of Master Tavin to bring you here, Daired or not.” He waved away my mortified look. “But Catriona is a dear friend and trusted to many within the Abbey, and any of her kin are welcome to me. Besides,” he said, his face darkening, “you speak of what’s coming, and that I must know. So please, speak.”
I shifted and looked back at the statue, less of an object and more of a presence than anything, looming white in the gloom of Hallowhall. The waters before Thell still churned in their pool. “Gladly, sir, but wouldn’t it be better to speak in the Abbey?”
“More comfortable, certainly, but perhaps not better.” He followed my gaze to the statue. “You feel it, then?”
I nodded, my throat suddenly too dry to speak.
“As do any who have allowed the gods a claim on their hearts. The imprint of their touch is not easily smoothed away.”
“What is it?”
He chuckled. “That feeling, you mean? If I may be perfectly honest, no one really knows. As for myself, I like to think of it as awe: half fear, half wonder, as one should feel before the gods.”
“Why here?”
One shoulder moved up and down beneath his robe. “Long commerce with the gods in this place has, so to speak, worn thin the walls between us and them. That does not mean their influence is not felt elsewhere, of course, for their nature seeps in through the blood and bones and breath of the world itself,” he said, gesturing to the elemental pools before each facet. “Yet they themselves do not walk in the world as we do.” He smiled sadly. “There are those who debate this with me, but I have always thought this a mercy. To see our gods face to face might very well be our undoing. Instead they whisper through cracks like this one, granting favor to those who uphold their sacred harmony and defending against those who would not.”
“I’m not sure I understand, sir,” I said.
“None do, child, until we pass out of the world altogether, Unmaker grant that be many years hence.”
For in the hand of the Unmaker, the scales are ever balanced. The phrase came to mind unbidden, though where from, I had no idea. The faint sound of lapping water drew my attention back to the foot of the statue. “High Cantor, the pool. What’s happening to it?”
His expression darkened. “I don’t rightly know, my lady. I’ve never seen it thus in my time, and there are no accounts in the records of my predecessors that mention it. It seems a sign that the Unmaker is troubled.” He turned to me with a hopeful expression. “Which is why I consider your arrival so fortuitous. You said you know what’s coming?”
Quickly I summed up for him everything I had told Pennaret this morning, adding details about our encounter with Wydrick and Tully that I’d thought prudent not to share with the subcantor. The High Cantor listened patiently, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm on his bearded chin. His frown deepened when I mentioned the Eldest.