reaching out through I the God, seeking clarity. There was no res the faintest tingle of impatience. Clearly, S given him all the information he needed trated, forming his confusion into a praye warded with a single image.
ELIF.
He nodded. Slowly removing Yashar’s arn his chest, he pressed one foot against Ja shoved him off the pallet. The dog rolled o then rose and shook himself with a reproachful grunt. After; using the pot, Kemal pulled a short tunic over his head, then he and Jaq slipped from the room.
The long, inlaid marble corridor which separated the Cyan quarters from those of Estavia’s seven other temple companies was chilly this early in the morning, the high latticed windows still dark. Kemal walked quickly, following Jaq’s shadowy form and listening to the tick, tick of his toenails on the floor. Few of Estavia’s warriors would be up this early on Havo’s First Morning. Few except Elif, he amended. Elif would rise early during a hurricane. Reaching the far end of the hall, he silently acknowledged the salute of the dormitory guard before heading outside into the temple’s innermost courtyard.
The air smelled of mulberry and magnolia trees, rain-soaked earth and stone. Kemal breathed in the sharp, spicy odor with pleasure, then followed Jaq as he took the ornately carved stone steps three at a time. Bounding across the graveled path, the dog shoved his nose under the hand of an old woman seated on an iron divan beneath a sweeping cinar tree. As he turned his ministering tongue to her face, one chestnut-colored hand emerged from the depths of a heavy, woolen blanket to grab his muzzle. Kemal chuckled.
Elif, late of Sable Company, had served Estavia-Sarayi as the temple’s most powerful battle-seer for over sixty years until age and encroaching blindness had forced her to retire. Refusing the offer of a comfortable bed at Calmak-Koy—the nearby convalescent garden and hospital village—she’d chosen instead to spend her last days seated in the temple’s inner courtyards, speaking prophecy and being waited on by the many warriors she’d trained over the years. To one side, politely out of earshot, her ever-present attendant met Kemal’s gaze with the silent request not to tire her. Kemal nodded. As he approached, Elif turned her mist-shrouded, brown eyes in his direction.
“Good morning, Ghazi.”
“Good morning, Elif-Sayin.” Crouching beside her, he kissed her fingers, noting how thin and translucent they’d become since last autumn.
“And why are you abroad so early?” she queried, her voice still strong despite her age. “Not even the most dedicated priest could tell the white thread from the black just yet.”
“Except for the priests of Havo,” he allowed.
“The priests of Havo are awakened by their God.”
Kemal glanced over at the broken bits of multicolored tile scattered about the courtyard. “From the sound of last night’s storm, their God nearly tore the roof off,” he noted. “It’s a wonder Estavia didn’t rise in response.”
The old woman gave a cackling laugh. “Now that would be a sight to see, yes? Estavia and Havo doing battle across the rooftops of Anavatan. Who do you think would win, eh?”
“I know who would lose: anyone caught in the crossfire.”
“You don’t believe Estavia would protect Her warriors?”
Her voice was teasing, but Kemal could hear the steel beneath it. As she bent her head to accept one of Jaq’s increasingly boisterous kisses, he could see the glow of the Battle God’s painted protections across her cheeks. Only the most beloved of Estavia’s chosen were guided to draw Her wards where they could be seen. Elif had earned that privilege many times over.
“I believe Estavia would allow anyone foolish enough to stand gawking at a God-Battle to reap the harvest of their own folly,” he answered piously.
“Spoken like a true farmer.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps.”
“So, tell me, why are you here
ELIF.
He nodded. Slowly removing Yashar’s arn his chest, he pressed one foot against Ja shoved him off the pallet. The dog rolled o then rose and shook himself with a reproachful grunt. After; using the pot, Kemal pulled a short tunic over his head, then he and Jaq slipped from the room.
The long, inlaid marble corridor which separated the Cyan quarters from those of Estavia’s seven other temple companies was chilly this early in the morning, the high latticed windows still dark. Kemal walked quickly, following Jaq’s shadowy form and listening to the tick, tick of his toenails on the floor. Few of Estavia’s warriors would be up this early on Havo’s First Morning. Few except Elif, he amended. Elif would rise early during a hurricane. Reaching the far end of the hall, he silently acknowledged the salute of the dormitory guard before heading outside into the temple’s innermost courtyard.
The air smelled of mulberry and magnolia trees, rain-soaked earth and stone. Kemal breathed in the sharp, spicy odor with pleasure, then followed Jaq as he took the ornately carved stone steps three at a time. Bounding across the graveled path, the dog shoved his nose under the hand of an old woman seated on an iron divan beneath a sweeping cinar tree. As he turned his ministering tongue to her face, one chestnut-colored hand emerged from the depths of a heavy, woolen blanket to grab his muzzle. Kemal chuckled.
Elif, late of Sable Company, had served Estavia-Sarayi as the temple’s most powerful battle-seer for over sixty years until age and encroaching blindness had forced her to retire. Refusing the offer of a comfortable bed at Calmak-Koy—the nearby convalescent garden and hospital village—she’d chosen instead to spend her last days seated in the temple’s inner courtyards, speaking prophecy and being waited on by the many warriors she’d trained over the years. To one side, politely out of earshot, her ever-present attendant met Kemal’s gaze with the silent request not to tire her. Kemal nodded. As he approached, Elif turned her mist-shrouded, brown eyes in his direction.
“Good morning, Ghazi.”
“Good morning, Elif-Sayin.” Crouching beside her, he kissed her fingers, noting how thin and translucent they’d become since last autumn.
“And why are you abroad so early?” she queried, her voice still strong despite her age. “Not even the most dedicated priest could tell the white thread from the black just yet.”
“Except for the priests of Havo,” he allowed.
“The priests of Havo are awakened by their God.”
Kemal glanced over at the broken bits of multicolored tile scattered about the courtyard. “From the sound of last night’s storm, their God nearly tore the roof off,” he noted. “It’s a wonder Estavia didn’t rise in response.”
The old woman gave a cackling laugh. “Now that would be a sight to see, yes? Estavia and Havo doing battle across the rooftops of Anavatan. Who do you think would win, eh?”
“I know who would lose: anyone caught in the crossfire.”
“You don’t believe Estavia would protect Her warriors?”
Her voice was teasing, but Kemal could hear the steel beneath it. As she bent her head to accept one of Jaq’s increasingly boisterous kisses, he could see the glow of the Battle God’s painted protections across her cheeks. Only the most beloved of Estavia’s chosen were guided to draw Her wards where they could be seen. Elif had earned that privilege many times over.
“I believe Estavia would allow anyone foolish enough to stand gawking at a God-Battle to reap the harvest of their own folly,” he answered piously.
“Spoken like a true farmer.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps.”
“So, tell me, why are you here
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