The Temple’s heart is barred to me, Etena. She says she will only speak to a Kai. Why close all the roads to me?

And Etena’s reply:

Because if you can open the way, so can your shadow.

Chapter 27

27

Zezili sat at the back of the public house outside Ladiosyn, writing a response to Daolyn’s letter about her house finances. Zezili’s sister Taodalain had asked for a small loan – they always ended up being gifts, but she still called it a loan – and Daolyn needed Zezili’s permission to grant it.

Give her no more than 50 dhorins, she wrote, and hesitated before continuing: I will be at Lake Morta later this month. If she has any other urgent requests, have her send post to me there.

Zezili sealed the letter with a bit of noxious gonsa sap and called over one of the lazy pages at another table to run it to the post general. As the girl opened the door to leave, Monshara came in. The girl held the door open for her, and the girl’s eyes were big as apples. Ever since Monshara’s people opened the gate on the slaughtering field, Zezili’s women had all taken a reverent shine to her. Oma was on everyone’s minds now. Zezili heard the talk at every village and town. Seeing that bloody gate open was enough to make even a nonbeliever zealous. Zezili had prayed to Rhea eight times since the gate opened, expecting Oma was close enough that she might even hear Rhea respond. But no. Things were just the same. Rhea was quiet. Waiting.

Zezili ordered another drink. Monshara sat across from her.

“I’m still not used to the liquor,” Monshara said. “Can you get me watered wine?” she called to the house matron.

“What do you need?” Zezili asked.

“Do you play cups?” Monshara asked, nodding at the stack of three round wooden cups at Zezili’s elbow – detritus from her afternoon of imbibing.

“The card game?”

“No, the gambling game,” Monshara said. She took up the cups and set them upside down on the table in a neat row.

Monshara opened her hand to reveal a small silver coin. On it was the head of some monarch, but not the Empress Zezili knew. Monshara placed the coin under the middle cup.

“Now tell me where the coin is,” Monshara said, and began to push the cups about the table in a series of figure eights.

“You must be very popular at children’s parties,” Zezili said.

“Humor me, Syre. It’s been a long day.”

Zezili idly tracked the cups. She had played games like this often and knew the trick of it.

When Monshara ceased her cup spinning, Zezili pointed to the center cup.

Monshara lifted it. As she did, Zezili lifted the other two cups as well. There was no sign of the coin beneath any of the cups.