Another set of gendars march Arti out last. To my disappointment, she’s unscathed—no sign that the fire has touched her. Her growing belly doesn’t show yet underneath her gold kaftan. Even in the midst of all this damage and chaos, my mother is radiant and composed. More so than the Vizier himself. The gendars give her a wide berth; they dare not touch the Ka-Priestess, lest she damns them. They march her to the Vizier, who stands flanked by two guards. He would have more if he knew the true reach of my mother’s powers, the devastation she’s capable of.
“By decree of the Almighty One,” the Vizier announces, “I hereby remove you from your position as Ka-Priestess of the Kingdom.” His impassive expression doesn’t match the satisfaction brimming in his voice. “The defiling of the Temple and the murder of innocents happened under your nose. You alone are responsible and hereby banished from the Kingdom.”
My breath catches in my throat. Banishment. It pales in the face of what she deserves, but this could be a chance. If she’s gone, the distance between us may weaken her curse and I can try again to send a message to Grandmother. But before my thoughts settle into any sign of hope, a sense of dread comes to roost in my chest.
My mother returns his arrogant smile with one of her own. “I accept my punishment without argument, Vizier,” she answers, as if he’s said nothing of consequence to her.
“If it were up to me,” he barks, “I’d have your head, but Jerek is a fool.”
Arti wrinkles her nose at the mention of the Almighty One by name. “I’m grateful for your mercy.”
“Should you set one foot on Kingdom soil again”—the Vizier leans closer to her, his eyes menacing—“I will have you executed on sight.”
Arti’s look of indifference doesn’t falter, nor does she lower her head in submission. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as a hint of magic licks the air. The Vizier turns a little gray, and he takes a half step back from my mother. If not for his craven bone to block her magic, she could kill him with the snap of her fingers.
The Vizier cuts his eyes at me, then back to Arti. “I banish your whole family from the Kingdom from this day forth.”
“No,” Rudjek whispers, his body tensing next to me.
A trickle of sweat glides down my forehead, and my pulse drums in my ears. He . . . he can’t do this. Where would I go? Tamar is my home. My friends are here. My life is here.
The demon magic roars, and I curl my hands into fists. It wants to strike at the Vizier, but I fight to get control over it. Attacking him would only make matters worse. I was so close to making that mistake only moments ago. Now I must be smarter. Compared to the Demon King, the Vizier is of little consequence. Perhaps Arti thought the same.
Rudjek, though, storms toward his father, his face flushed with heat. Two gendars grab him from behind. He elbows one in the stomach and twists out of the other’s grasp. Another two disarm him, and as he fights to free himself, more come to stop him. “Don’t do this, Father!” Rudjek screams. “Arrah’s done nothing wrong!”
“Come, daughter.” Arti beckons me. “The Vizier’s word is law . . .” She pauses, and her callous, matter-of-fact tone cracks me in two. “For now.”
If the Vizier hears her slight, he doesn’t respond as he watches Rudjek fight against his gendars. They have him pinned to the ground. I want to go to him, but the magic responds to Arti. Tears cloud my eyes as I walk to her side. Is this it, then? The last I’ll see of Rudjek, my friends, my home. An eerie numbness settles in my body and mind as I stare in disbelief. This whole day has been a waking nightmare from which there is no escape.
“Let me go,” Rudjek yells. “Release me!”
He kicks and screams and punches. It takes a dozen gendars to hold him, and they’re beaten and battered and bloodied in the exchange.
“This is for your own good,” the Vizier calls out to his son. “You’ll come to realize that soon.”
Arti rests a hand on my shoulder. There’s calculation in her cold eyes, and I realize what she’s done. The orishas didn’t strike the Temple, nor did the people rise up and burn it for revenge. Arti set the fire. She could never give birth so close to the Temple, lest the other seers sense the child’s demon magic and wake from her curse. Now she’s free from the watchful eyes of the Kingdom. Free to wreak havoc on those who stand in her way. Free to give birth to a child who will bring the world to its knees.
“I will find you!” Rudjek shouts. “I promise.”
His words echo in my ears and I cling to his voice, wondering if it will be the last time we set eyes on each other. If Arti wants to disappear, she will make sure no one can find us. I cling to hope too. I’m the only one who can stop my mother before it’s too late.
Fram, Orisha of Life and Death
You should not have interfered without consensus from the rest of us!
I did not say you needed our permission, Re’Mec. But it would have been nice if the two of you thought to include us. You never think ahead. It’s no different from when you waged war against the Demon King. Selfishness is your nature.
Save your profanities for someone who cares. Let’s discuss the matter at hand.
You made a mockery of those children and now the Kingdom is in chaos.
Are these not the people we swore to let live by their own accord? Are these not the people we fought for?
You never could leave well enough alone. Always one scheme after another, or a war when you’re bored. Are you bored now? Is that ridiculous Rite of Passage not enough to entertain you anymore?
If you let your serpents bite me again, Koré, I swear I will strike you down myself.
You take me to be too gentle, but recall I’m the only one of us who’s killed our kind before. I’m not opposed to doing it again.
You misunderstand my intent. I’m not against action, but the Demon King is still in his prison and the child has yet to be born. We do not know if she will have the strength to release him. We cannot see her future.
We know the girl will be powerful, but we cannot act without facts.
What do you expect us to do, Koré? There’s so few of us left.
In all this time, we haven’t found a way to free our brethren. They suffer even now. Those who have chained the Demon King, and those who sealed the gateway between this world and the abandoned realm we left behind. They’re as good as dead. They deserve better.
The Supreme Cataclysm knows best. It mothered this universe like many before it. We should go back into the womb to be unmade and emerge born anew after this world has destroyed itself.
You don’t have to state the obvious, Re’Mec. I know that the Supreme Cataclysm didn’t create the Demon King. Our sister did.
No, I will not say her name. She is gone. Leave it be.
Must we always fight? We weren’t like this before.
Yes, I’m an old, nostalgic fool. I yearn for a time when life was simple.
I don’t want to fight anymore. The others are arriving. Essi, Nana, Mouran, Sisi, Yookulu, Kiva, Oma, Kekiyé, Ugeniou, and Fayouma. We are the last orishas. There will be no more after we’re gone.
Twenty-Two
Rudjek will find me. He means it. My fingers are ice-cold and a shudder wracks my body. He will come. I swallow and a knot settles in my belly. He will come and Arti will have no qualms with killing him. She hates the Vizier so much that it would be a pleasure for her.