Wysper - Muzen's spies

From the other side of the door, the High Priest's voice called out, "Send her in." Fat-boy's twin opened the door and I stepped inside.

I took in the scene as the door clicked shut behind me. The room was large, with chest-high brass braziers burning white coal that gave off heat without smoke, along with the scent of incense, and I took a moment to unwrap the blood-red pashmina as I looked around. The stone walls were not stuccoed but bare, richly furnished with tapestries devoted to Yun-Kax and the harvest... and yet, the colors were faded and the cloth frayed. They should have been replaced a long time ago.

Likewise, the customary gold statues of the deities, in their traditional place on the shelf above an unused hearth, had been polished until they gleamed... and yet, they were crude compared to the ones I had seen in Tesiphon, or even those I saw in the last satrapy we visited, where the local head priest hosted a banquet my priestess-sisters and I had been permitted to attend.

I finished unwrapping my pashmina, laying my shoulders bare and catching the eyes of the three people sitting on cushions around a low, round table, as I walked barefoot over the wooden floor towards the High Priest. He was dressed exactly as I had expected, in the white robes with red borders that he favored, in contrast to my black dress with its matching red on the sleeves, the High Priest looking away to pour wine from a delicate ceramic jug into three equally fragile cups.

The other two with him were strange. Across from him was a man from the eastern wastes, his dark eyes slanted in a face like a fox and weathered by many years in the harsh sun. He wore black leather resembling armor, though too thin to stop a blade, and silver hoops in each ear.

He watched me with an inscrutable expression on his face, unlike the woman, who stared at me with a hungry smile. Her skin was dark as ebony, with hair kinked as if made of black, twisted wire, her icy blue dress cut to reveal far more than it concealed. She wore silver at her throat, her wrists, and her ankles, the earrings attached to each lobe reminding me of icicles in winter. Except these icicles would never melt in the summer sun.

My eyes went back to the man, though, for despite his eastern looks, his hair was the same dark red color as mine. He raised his eyebrows as if in question. I was staring at him in bad grace, so I averted my eyes and bowed to the High Priest. "Your holiness has summoned me alone for the first time. May I be of service to you?"

He patted the cushion on the floor between the exotic woman and himself. "You have already been of service to me over the last three years, and I thought it high time we sat together and talked. Have you eaten?"

I shook my head as I knelt, then adjusted to a sitting position, my bare legs remaining hidden under the flowing dress. "Servant-priestess Myra had just finished washing my hair when the summons came."

He gave me a knowing smile. "I thought that might be the case, so I told the Servant-mistress to prepare food from the kitchen and bring it up after you had arrived. I will feed you while we speak."

The man with dark red hair gave me a curious looked. "Feed her? Is the girl feeble in some way?"

The man did not speak in the Sasnayam noble caste tongue, as my priestess-sisters and I were taught, but as one lower born. The High Priest gave him a sly smile. "Wysper, this charming rogue is Redhunter, an outrider for the White Horde, while the delightful creature beside you is Zanzabel, a holy dancer for the cult of Osiris. Redhunter is a spy for the Khan, while Zanzabel is a spy for the Kingdom of Palmyra." He turned his dark eyed gaze upon me. "You have a clever mind. Tell me, why I am entertaining a pair of spies?"

I spent a moment arranging my dress as I struggled for a response. "Your holiness, Servant-priestess Thalia is the wisest of us. Everyone says so."

"While Myra is the most attractive. Yes, I have heard that repeated many times." The High Priest's eyebrows were shaved clean, but painted in a stylized resemblance of what was there, and he raised the right one as he regarded me. "However, I see behind the masks others use to hide their true selves, as you have learned to do ever since you came here." Without taking his dark eyes off me, he grasped the delicate cup and held it out. "I understand why you hide, as well as what I can use to draw you out from behind it. Lean forward and put your nose over the cup."

I did as he commanded and sniffed deeply. The wine had a red scent, with an earthy tang and laughing vines, which awakened my sleeping thirst as the answer became clear. "You entertain them," I replied as I stared into eyes capable of holding me fast and staring into my soul, "because they are your spies."

The High Priest smiled. "Zanzabel, take the cup and let Wysper place her cushion beside you, so you may give her sips of wine at your discretion. Before you ask, she is not permitted to hold the cup, yet has a desire for it as great as Redhunter's. Greater, because she cannot pour for herself but must rely on others for help."

"Cruel," Zanzabel said as she took the delicate cup from his hand, while I shifted my cushion so I was sitting next to her. "You find our weaknesses and use them to control us."

The High Priest merely shruged as Zanzabel held the cup to my lips and let me take a sip. "Why do you think I am high priest of the most powerful god in the Sasnayam pantheon? Or why the empire is holding firm against both Palmyra and the western 'Empire of the East'? Knowledge is power, and the news you bring me about your respective masters helps me maintain it, while the news you bring them is what I want them to hear."

"Which is the truth," Zanzabel said, giving me another sip of wine as she moved so her body was pressed up against mine, "with a few creative embellishments." She set the cup down as she looked at me. "For example, when I return to Queen Zenobia, I will tell her that the rumors she heard about blood corn are true, then give her the small bag of it that I managed to steal out of the temple storeroom."

The High Priest reached underneath the table and brought out a fist-sized leather bag, which he tossed onto the table beside the wine cup. Zanzabel leaned over and took it, opening the bag to show me what it contained: corn kernels three times as large as normal ones, red as the blood I shed to create them, and faintly glowing. She smiled and closed the bag before placing it in a hidden pocket of her dress. "Thank you. The queen's son is sickly, and after she tests it on a few slaves to see the effects, she will likely use it upon him."

"Forgive me if I speak out of turn," I said, "but blood corn is better at strengthening than it is at healing. If she uses too much on the slaves, there will not be enough to fully cure her son."

"At which point you and I will be back in Tesiphon," the High Priest replied, "with the blood corn gathered after each sacrifice safely locked away in the temple vaults." He raised his painted eyebrows, expecting an answer.

Thinking about the times Fat-boy had spoken to me of politics, and shown me maps, I slowly nodded. "She will have to bargain. Palmyra is now a friend of the Etruscans, what is called the Empire of the West now, and neutral to their cousins, the Empire of the East. You will use blood corn as a way to shift their friendship over to your side."

Redhunter took a swallow of wine. "I'd say it's to keep Palmyra out of the next Sasnayam-Eastern Empire war. Muzen, one of these days your cleverness will be your undoing."

The High Priest shrugged. "Perhaps. Yet, today is not that day. Going back to Wysper being forbidden the use of her hands, you were born a Blood mage because your mother wore a red dragon scale over her belly all during her pregnancy, correct?"

"While the girl's mother wore the same over hers, occasionally wearing a golden scale just above it to give her daughter the golden bangs I see at her forehead. What of it?"

"Besides being a scout and a scoundrel, are you ever called upon by the White Horde to use your powers?"

Redhunter gave the High Priest an indignant look. "You know I use them all the time. Besides keeping me alive if I'm ever wounded, blood magic let me sense people better so I know their moods, which is one reason Khan Khingla has me here and not out scouting, or hunting." He shrugged. "I don't have the talent to use it for crafting, but during the last plague, I helped the healers-" Redhunter stopped and stared at the High Priest. "You tricky old bastard."

Instead of becoming upset, the High Priest gave him a smug smile. "You laid your hands upon those who were sick, and let the power flow through you to strengthen them. Mana flows through the body like a river, only in Wysper's case, the river is dammed. Much of the dam is sympathetic magic; she is a virgin, and as long as she remains virginal, only little of her mana will escape through her hands. By forbidding her to use them, I insure the flow is completely blocked."

Zanzabel gave me another sip from the cup. "All that mana has to go somewhere, and so it builds up inside her, forming the second heart I watched you rip from her chest."

"Mana node, actually. If she truly had a second heart, Wysper would have bled to death a long time ago, and not by my hands." He had a sip off his own cup. "It took me quite some time to figure out how Pan had done it, because normally when mana flows through the body, it does not matter whether a female remains virginal or not. But through trial and error, I hit upon the method he used, and recreated it."

"Recreated it?" My eyes went wide. "Your Holiness, I do not understand. How can you recreate something given to my... given to the Brittani people by the gods?"

Zanzabel picked up the cup and let me inhale its fragrance before giving me the smallest of sips, the desire on her face speaking volumes about her secret weakness as Redhunter drained his cup. "The gods. Tell me, Wysper, do you believe in the gods?"

Is this another test? "Of course I do."

"What if I told you the gods are actually a race of beings known as Celestials, and that Muzen, your High Priest, is in fact Yun-Kax." The idea was so ludicrous that I put my hand over my mouth for a moment, and he frowned. "What's the matter? Are you ill?"

"She is trying to keep from laughing," the High Priest said in a mild voice as he refilled the man's cup. "Wysper, the White Horde believes that there is only one god named Tengri, who created everything."

Either this is another test or his spy suffers from madness. "But I have seen the god's priests work miracles, both here, and when I lived upon the island of Britannia."

Redhunter looked at me as if I were a child. "These 'miracles' are nothing more than the same magic Ishi uses to power the manikin that washes my clothes. The only difference is in their power, and the creative ways Celestials get people to believe they're anything other than ordinary magic."

Drawing myself up, I looked Redhunter straight in the eye. "I would hardly call the creation of blood corn ordinary."

The High Priest chuckled. "She has you there."

The man took a sip from his wine cup before waving it in a sweeping gesture. "It's unique only because none of the other Celestials have figured out how it's done... at least, up to now," Redhunter saluting the High Priest with his cup before setting it back down.

The High Priest inclined his head, acknowledging the complement, but I was not finished. "I will grant you that point, yet how do you explain the great statues, crafted from pieces of Artifact into the likeness of a god such as Pan, that come to life and speak to us when their priest invokes them?"

"They aren't statues." Redhunter was not backing down from his madness as he set his cup down. "They’re devices like the manikin Ishi uses, except these are powered and controlled by the Celestials themselves, who sit inside the device as if wearing a suit of armor. The Celestials first used them in their war with the Daemo princes, but now only bring them to life occasionally to keep the people believing that the gods still exist."

"It is the same in Palmyra." Zanzabel held the cup to my lips and let me drink as she continued. "Once a year, Osiris celebrates his feast day with a festival of sacred dance, culminating in the Chief Priest climbing inside and animating the statue to have it dance with us."

I could not believe what I was hearing. "Zanzabel, I do not wish to give you any insult, but you are making it sound like the Chief Priest and Osiris are the same person."

She reached out and rubbed the edge of her thumb along the bone of my jaw as her other hand set the cup down. "There was a time I believed as you do, that the gods were real and looked down from the heavens upon their people. Then I was initiated into the sacred mysteries of Osiris." She ran her smooth forefinger down the side of my face. "We are fortunate in that the ones people believe are gods, are actually Celestials living among us, for they are far more interested in our welfare than gods would ever be." Zanzabel motioned outward with her hand. "Take blood corn. Muzen went to a great deal of trouble acquiring you and the other priestesses, along with the dragon scales used to create the ritual." She glanced up at the High Priest. "Though I wonder at the cost to the Brittani people."

The High Priest shrugged. "That is not my concern. Stabilizing the Sasnayam empire is, and blood corn has done wonders to quiet the rumblings of discontent coming from the empire's satrapies, especially those bordering the waste. Once we return to Tesiphon, preparations for an attack upon the Empire of the East shall begin in earnest. Armentia belongs to us, and despite many of its people reconciling themselves to now being citizens of the decadent west, they will return to the fold whether they like it or not. From there, we will strike north and seize Causia, or at least the eastern part where its gold mines lie. That will give us better protection against the empire's mages, and allow our forces to march west, possibly even to Konstanopolis itself."

"Queen Zenobia will be distraught at the thought of your armies sweeping west to the north of us."

The High Priest smiled. "I believe returning the ancient city of Palmyra and the rest of Syros to her hands from the Eastern Empire's might go a long way to easing her fears."

Zanzabel stared at him in shock. "But Armentia is many leagues to the northeast. How can your forces-"

"Our forces will never set foot on even one hectare of Syros' soil. There is an organization in the city of Palmyra made up of those friendly to Palmyra, who want Queen Zenobia in charge of Syros instead of Emperor Konstanos, who are ready to overthrow the royal governor whenever-" A sword pommel hammers on the door. "What is it?"

"The food you requested, your holiness," the eunuch's voice answers.

"Send her in." The door opens, and Pigeon comes inside holding a platter with a metal cover, a worried expression on her face. "Zanzabel, my dear," the High Priest said as a small figure stepped out from behind the Servant-mistress, "I always plan ahead, and will be as ruthless and as cruel as I must be to keep the empire safe and growing." I saw the child-like figure and terror rose inside me like a serpent wrapped around my throat.

Yrg was here.