The Emperor's Mirror Page 4

  “You know very well I can’t,” Calessa sulked.

  “Children,” Sienna said, from where she was tying up the horses. She left them on a loose rein so they would have room to graze and reach the nearby stream, ensuring that they would be all right for a few hours until the Warders returned. “Let’s get to work.”

  * * *

  Chapter Three

  The group asked for directions in Nuan Huo, but even if they hadn’t, the temple was impossible to miss. It was much larger than the monastery, constructed entirely of peculiar patterns of dark and light grey marble, with a shining silver spire at the top. Moreover, it was in the middle of an open field at the end of a wide, frequently used dirt road, so it could be seen for quite some distance.

  The extremely enthusiastic man they had spoken to in Nuan Huo had told them that if they were quick, they could make the late morning service. Apparently they were not the only people attempting to do this; their travel was hampered by a large crowd of carriages, horses, and people on foot, all heading for the temple. Tallis scanned the crowd but didn’t see any unifying characteristics; the worshippers were old and young, men and women, some dressed in the rough clothes of hard laborers and others dressed in the long, flowing robes of the nobility.

  “It’s beautiful,” Calessa remarked as they approached the magnificent building, “but it’s . . . a gaudy type of beauty. Like comparing a noblewoman to a lady of the evening. It’s designed to catch attention.”

  “Why don’t you make nice to some of the followers?” Sienna suggested. “Get some information for us. Make friends.”

  Calessa scanned the crowd and nodded. She took the clip out of her hair and shook it out, then broke off from her two companions and approached a young man walking by himself. He was dressed in clothes that were finer than a laborer’s simple, strong linen cloth, but not quite ornamental enough to belong to a noble. His face was rather plain and he was a little on the heavy side; she guessed that he did not generally garner much in the way of female attention. “Hello, there,” she said, turning on the charm and smiling sweetly. “Are you on your way to the service?”

  “Of course,” he said, trying to not stare too obviously and failing. Calessa’s smile broadened.

  “This is my first time,” Calessa said. She made a slight bow. “Lady Calessa of Raynor, at your service.”

  His eyes widened at her title, and he bowed deeply in return, clearly flustered. “Oh, I’m just – you can call me Philemon. I’m not a noble or anything. It’s a great honor to meet you, my lady. How did you hear about the services here?”

  “I was visiting a friend in town,” Calessa said. “She told me that I simply must attend, but unfortunately she was too ill today to join me. I’ve no idea what I’m getting into. Tell me, what does this religion worship?”

  Philemon’s eyes brightened with the glimmering certainty of evangelical fervor; he was clearly pleased to be given the opportunity to expound upon his new faith. “We worship the God of All,” he said.

  “And . . .?” Calessa prompted.

  “And what?”

  “Just one god?”

  “Of course,” Philemon said. “He is the Creator, and the Destroyer.”

  “Seems like an awful lot to do for one god,” Calessa said with a slight smile. “So much to control, so many people to watch over.”

  He reached out and patted her arm, almost condescendingly. “You’ll understand it much better after you hear Father Emory preach,” he said. “He explains things so beautifully.”

  “Would you care to escort me?” she asked.

  “I would be honored, my lady,” he replied. They chatted about inconsequential things for the rest of the walk, and arrived a few minutes before the service was due to begin. The interior of the temple was much like the outside: large, beautiful, and designed to catch the eye. It was much more open and spacious than any part of the monastery, which seemed dark and cramped in comparison. There were huge marble support pillars placed at intervals, but other than that, the temple itself was uncluttered. Calessa noticed a distant lack of the features normally found in temples of the old religion, or even older buildings in general. There were no bronze statues, no bamboo screens, and the windows were glass rather than rice paper. Although the room was beautiful, she thought it lacked character and depth; it could have been a library or a magistrate’s building rather than a temple, were it not for the size.

  There were actual wooden pews rather than the kneeling mats she had seen at the monastery. Calessa settled in one with Philemon and several of his friends. She glanced over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of Tallis in the last row. Sienna was nowhere to be seen at first, but when Calessa widened her magical senses, she saw the other woman lurking near one of the pillars. Sienna was extremely good at not being seen when she wished it.

  After another quick glance, Calessa guessed that the hall was designed to hold several hundred people, and some people were currently standing at the back, as all the pews were full. It was indeed a very large service for such a new temple, and she turned her attention to the altar with interest.

  The service began with some chanting and some incense, and try as she might to stay alert, she began to feel slightly drowsy. Then a curtain behind the altar opened and a man walked out. His appearance was not particularly striking, though he was quite tall, but it was the way he carried himself and his forceful aura that demanded attention. She guessed immediately that this was Father Emory and was slightly surprised; she had expected an older man, but Emory looked only a little older than her own twenty-two years. It was difficult to judge Elder Edrich’s age, given his shaved head and smooth features, but she figured he had to be at least in his forties. Emory was much younger than that. His thick black hair had yet to start graying; his tall figure was fit and looked athletic.

  “My dear friends, children of the God of All,” he boomed. His voice filled the entire temple, an impressive feat for a man who was not, as far as Calessa could tell, using magical amplification. “Thank you for joining me today at our humble service. It’s so nice to see some new faces. I know you are all spreading the good word, and I thank you for that.”

  There were nods and murmurs. Calessa stole a glance at Philemon and saw him nodding fervently, his eyes shining.

  Calessa had never been particularly religious; few people were anymore. After the old religion had faded, new ones had cropped up, but they typically faded into obscurity before much time had passed. No new religion had ever gained much of a foothold; the Elders of the old religion pointed to this as a sign that theirs was the only true way. As such, Calessa had no idea what was supposed to happen during a sermon. She watched Emory as he thundered on, and although she stopped listening to what he was actually saying, she felt calm and relaxed, warm and whole, even a little sleepy. She did not know what exactly Emory was saying, but was aware that she agreed with it whole-heartedly, and it was very important that the entire world know about this religion, this God of All, this wonderful sense of being put right.

  She came back to earth as the congregation began another chant, and looked around dazedly.

  “Are you all right?” Philemon whispered to her.

  “Am – I – ” She blinked at him, feeling weak-kneed and dizzy. It was suddenly very hot in the temple, almost stifling. The most frightening thing about the sensation was that it was not frightening at all. Despite the fact that she was suddenly having difficulty drawing each breath, her body was still relaxed, the world fading in and out with the beat of her pulse.

  “It’s always like that at your first service,” he said, patting her hand. “It sort of – hits you all at once, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she said. “That’s it exactly.”

  After the ceremony concluded, Philemon escorted her back outside, helping her sit down on a marble bench near the entrance to the temple. The sunshine and the fresh air helped somewhat, but she still felt a little dazed, as if she were somewhere hi
gh above herself, looking down and observing what was going on without really seeing it.

  “Forgive me,” Philemon said, “but I’m participating in the next service, in about half an hour. I must go prepare. Will you be all right on your own?”

  “Yes, yes,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll see you at the next mass, won’t I?” he asked anxiously.

  “Oh, of course,” she said fervently, and she meant it. She could imagine nothing more wonderful than going back into the temple in an hour and hearing more of Father Emory’s extraordinary words. Philemon squeezed her hand one last time and vanished back into the temple.

  Before Calessa had thoroughly collected herself, Tallis dropped onto the bench beside her, yawning. “I thought that was never going to end,” he moaned.

  “Oh?” Calessa managed, rather unintelligently. “It was quite short, I thought.”

  Tallis blinked at her. “Calessa,” he said, “we were in that temple for nearly two hours.”

  “We were?” She startled and looked automatically up at the sun.

  “What did you think of it?” Tallis asked, tipping his head to one side as he examined her carefully.

  “I – it was – it was remarkable,” she stated. “I think it made perfect sense. I don’t see how it’s a cult at all.”

  Tallis reached out and touched his fingers to her temple. “What made perfect sense?” he asked.

  “Well – the God of all – he – ” Calessa stopped. “Well, I can’t exactly explain it, but it definitely made perfect sense.”

  “What’s with her?” Sienna asked, sitting down next to them. “That was the longest service I’ve ever attended. Glad I snuck out early; I might have started screaming. There’s a little hallway on each side of the temple room, but all the doors in the corridors were locked and warded.”

  “I nearly fell asleep,” Tallis remarked. “But . . . he’s definitely pulling something, and whatever it is, it’s subtle.” He gestured to Calessa, who was staring vacantly into space. “I actually think it’s a pity you left early,” he said. “I would have liked to know what you thought of the service.”

  “I heard bits of his sermon from the hallways,” Sienna said. “As I was looking around. I thought it was a load of bosh. Typical ‘worship my god and all your problems will be solved’ drivel.”

  “Hm,” Tallis said. “Maybe you have to be in the hall for whatever he’s doing to take effect? But then why would it hit Calessa so badly but not me?”

  “You just don’t know how to listen properly,” Calessa said primly.

  Sienna and Tallis glanced at each other, and Tallis took Calessa by the chin. “Look at me,” he said firmly. She blinked at him and made a questioning noise. He traced a sigil in the air, a spell designed to dispel other magic, and placed his finger squarely in the middle of her forehead. “Now wake up.”

  She jolted, and blinked. “I – where am – what – ”

  “You with us again?” Tallis asked.

  Calessa frowned at him. “Yes,” she said, somewhat reluctantly. She felt as though she had been doused in cold water. “Where did I go? It was . . . very floaty.”

  “You almost became one of their new recruits,” Tallis said, relaxing slightly. “Tell us what you remember.”

  Calessa stared at him for a moment, then reluctantly nodded. She tried her best to describe the sensation that the service had left in her, the floating, peaceful certainty, but it wouldn’t come out very clearly. “I’m afraid I’m not making sense,” she said, frustrated.

  “Although I hate to admit it,” Sienna said, “I think Elder Ultra Righteous may be correct in his assumptions. There’s something quite odd going on here. And Tallis, you just did a glyph to dispel, right? Which means that there was some sort of magic holding Calessa under.”

  Tallis nodded. “But I didn’t feel any being performed. It wasn’t a normal compulsion spell, or a confounding spell.”

  Calessa groaned. “I feel quite foolish,” she said.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Tallis said. He looked around as the crowd began to shuffle back into the temple. “Why are they all going back in?”

  “Philemon – the man I was sitting with – said there would be another service in half an hour,” Calessa said.

  “Another?” Sienna exclaimed. “Who would voluntarily sit through four hours of this a day?”

  “A follower,” Calessa said, and shuddered. “I was thrilled with the thought.”

  Tallis glanced over at Sienna. “Did you find anything when you snooped?”

  “No,” Sienna said. “Everything other than the main temple was locked, which was suspicious all on its own. I could have broken in easily enough, but I wanted to discuss it with you first, since this is supposed to be a covert operation. Do you think they do tours?”

  “In a place this pretentious, they might,” Tallis said. He turned to Calessa and said, “Do you think anyone will notice if you don’t show?”

  “I doubt it,” she said. “They don’t care; they just want to listen to Father Emory.”

  “That much is good, at least,” Tallis said. “We’ve got some time before the next service. Shall we – ”

  “Excuse me,” a light voice said from the temple entrance, and the three of them looked up to see a slender man walking towards them. He looked utterly normal, with light brown hair swept back into a long braid, dressed in plain, serviceable clothes. He could have been anyone, but he didn’t have that vague, glazed look on his face that would have marked him as a member of the congregation. “Emory would like to meet the three of you before the next service, if at all possible.”

  All of them were taken off guard. “Why?” Tallis asked, after a moment to process. “Does he normally accord that honor to his followers?”

  “Of course not,” the young man said with a laugh. “My name is Owain. I help Emory around the temple. He saw that you were here, and figured that you were probably here to see him, not to go to the service. You’re the first Warders we’ve gotten here.”

  “I wasn’t aware we were holding up a sign,” Tallis said.

  Owain smiled. “The God of All sees much,” he said.

  “What a load of bosh,” Sienna said. “How did you really know?”

  Owain’s smile disappeared and his face closed off. “You’ll have to ask Emory,” he said. “Please follow me.”

  “All right,” Tallis said, and they followed Owain through a side door they hadn’t noticed, finding themselves in a cool hallway with high ceilings. They could hear the noise from the main temple room, the light chatter of conversation amongst the congregation. The hallway was bare compared to the temple; the tile was plain and there were no windows. “You don’t call him Father Emory,” Tallis remarked, as Owain led them down the hall.

  “No,” Owain said, inclining his head slightly.

  “Why not?” Tallis asked.

  “I said that I help him run things,” Owain said, “not that I worship here.”

  “Not a big fan of the ‘God of All’?” Tallis asked, and Owain shrugged before opening a door and leading them into an ornate study. Emory was standing behind a large desk, folding his vestments. “Nice,” Tallis said, looking around. The desk was made of mahogany, a particularly rare wood, as were the chairs. A porcelain tea set was sitting on the desk’s smooth surface; even from where he stood, Tallis could tell it was high quality. There were a number of paintings on the wall, though none were religious in nature, and the floor was carpeted, a luxury few but nobility could afford. “Do you come from money?” he asked, aware of the impropriety of the question but not particularly caring if he offended.

  Owain smiled. “Private funding.”

  “Rich congregation members, then,” Tallis said.

  “As you say,” Owain replied. “Emory, would you like me to stay or go?”

  “Stay, please, Owain,” Emory said. He walked around the desk and smiled at the three Warders. The expression looked out of pl
ace on his face, becoming almost a smirk. “Greetings, my friends. My name is Emory. I don’t believe I know the three of you.”

  Tallis stepped forward. “I’m Tallis,” he said. “This is Calessa, and Sienna.”

  “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” Emory said. “Calessa, I see you enjoyed my service.”

  “Yes, quite,” Calessa said. “It won’t be happening again, you understand.”

  “Oh? That saddens me.” Emory gestured to a large ottoman, upholstered in a dark green brocade threaded with gold. “Why don’t you have a seat? You look positively unsteady.”

  “Yes,” Calessa said, sitting down, “what is in that incense?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest,” Emory said. “I buy it in downtown Nuan Huo. You could ask the business owner, of course. I’ll give you his card. I asked for lavender this time, but I’m afraid he sent me something else.” He looked over the three of them. “I assume you have been sent to investigate me,” he said, without much concern.

  “Not specifically,” Tallis said. “We were quite curious, however, after hearing about your temple.”

  “And what do you think, now that you have been to one of the services?”

  “I think you’re very good,” Tallis said. “But I’m not quite sure what you’re very good at.”

  “I think your sermons are too long,” Sienna added.

  Emory smiled again, a look that was pleasant on the surface, but ice cold underneath. His eyes were a strange, flat grey with just a hint of blue, and the smile never touched them. “As far as my understanding goes,” he said, “gods and religion aren’t the Warders’ domain. So I’d appreciate it if you could keep your fingers out of this. I will, of course, give you leave to look around before you go.”

  “If you’re doing anything to compel these people without their knowledge or consent,” Tallis said, “then you are under our jurisdiction.”

  “Compel them to do what?” Emory asked. “Ninety percent of the congregation gives no money or offerings. Calessa, my dear, do you feel compelled to give me anything?”