Rocalla's Saga: Arrival

22: The Town Square —

1054 Kyabalaka 5

My rumbling stomach wakes me before dawn. The room is cold, and I start to shiver as soon as I climb out of the bed. Throwing a blanket over my shoulders, I walk into the hallway.

I knock on Dierdra’s door. Getting no response, I knock again.

“Kan bejdokken?” her voice sighs from the other side of the door.

“Dierdra, it’s me,” I say.

“What is it?”

“Can I come in?”

She hesitates a moment, then opens the door. “It’s really early.”

“I’m cold and hungry. Want to go get breakfast?”

“What I want is to get some more sleep.” She looks at me, shakes her head, and smiles. “Sure, why not?”

We go downstairs and each get a bowl of cereal and a mug of tea. The cereal is as tasteless as ever, but it is hot and filling. I finish it in minutes and go get another bowl. While consuming my second serving of mush, I slow down and relax. We are sitting along the side of the tavern room, with our backs to the wall. As more people come down for breakfast, I sink down into my chair. Soon a number of people are eating, drinking, and talking nearby, but they appear to be ignoring us.

“That encounter last night kind of shook me up,” Dierdra says. “Do you think there are a lot of people like them, looking for us?”

“I don’t know, but it is worrisome,” I say, sitting up again.

As more people enter the tavern, the noise level starts to rise. The mood seems livelier; people are greeting each other and chattering.

“What’s all the talk about today?” I ask Dierdra.

“Word is spreading about the upcoming announcement at the town square. Everyone is talking about it.”

“In light of everything that happened last night, we probably need to be prepared to leave quickly, in case things go badly. We should pack up all of our stuff this morning.”

“Are we going to take it with us to the square?”

“No, I’d rather not. I don’t want to be too conspicuous. But I suggest we get everything ready and pile it by our doors.”

“Okay,” Dierdra says. “Let’s put it all in your room though. If we have to leave in a hurry, I want us to be able to keep together.”

We finish our breakfast, enjoying a couple of cups of tea. It is wonderful being able to sit and relax. No one is staring at me; I am being treated the same as every other person here. It is a great feeling, which I wish could last forever, but realize may not last the day.

On our way upstairs, I stop and pay the innkeeper for the next three days. “If we don’t say otherwise before the second night, assume we’re gone the next day and rent our rooms.” He says nothing, but nods, a look of understanding in his eyes.

We take our time packing everything up and then move Dierdra’s bags into my room. Once they are in place, we leave for the town square. The streets are full of people talking and walking into the inner city alongside of us. We manage to avoid the gazes of the town guardsmen at the gate by blending into the crowd. I probably should have purchased some local clothing, but at least my coat has a hood that covers my hair and shades my face, while I keep my dark hands buried in its pockets.

The day is mild and overcast, and the gloom weighs me down as we find a place to stand not far from the platform in the center of the square, which faces the front of the town hall. I think about the Circle Cultist who hung there just a few days ago. The body is gone now; the gibbet removed. Observing the other people, we talk briefly about the city, trying to imagine which way the events of today might take it.

A huge and varied crowd is gathering. Men and women, and more than a few children, are taking places around the square. The ceaseless chatter of excited conversation fills the air. Men gesture back and forth in heated discussions, while the women tend to talk amongst themselves in quieter tones, occasionally breaking off to chase after wandering children. I imagine that they are talking about the upcoming announcement by the church, but they could just as easily be discussing the mildness of the weather, or the status of their food stores, or how much their children have grown.

I am too agitated and anxious to want to talk much myself. Dierdra seems content to stand quietly and watch what everyone else is doing.

Closing my eyes, I pray that I will have the wisdom to guide us both, whatever may happen. More than that, I pray that today will have a good outcome, free from violence or the threat of war. Looking again at the children, I remember when I was young and full of energy, with not a care in the world, running on the lush green hills of Padannakyor’n Island and enjoying the warmth of the summer sun. I think about the fields and forests near my home, and the seaside beaches of the ocean shore. It was a good childhood, and I wonder if these children are as happy as I was then. A small smile greets my lips.

The church contingent arrives shortly before noon. Bishop Genhgën Rul, Father Dortag, and Father Hafhmar come walking up the wide boulevard that leads from Castle Island. The three clerics ascend the platform together. Father Dortag starts speaking first, as he steps up and leads the townsfolk in prayer. I am amazed that this frail looking, soft spoken old man can project his voice so well. The whole square echoes in his clearly spoken Franhkallan.

When he is done, Bishop Rul takes his place. He faces the crowd and clears his throat. Everyone is silent; the only sound comes from some birds calling nearby.

He begins his speech, speaking slowly and carefully. Dierdra summarizes it for me as the bishop talks. “He is welcoming the people, telling them that he has an important announcement to make,” Dierdra whispers. “Now he is speaking of Bishop Narvaan Kel.” The people are listening attentively, then almost as one they react, gasping and murmuring. “He told them that his body has been found and that he was murdered.” The crowd is growing noisy and restless, and the bishop has to wait for them to calm down before he can go on.

When he continues, it is in a slightly lower voice. “He said that the funeral will be at noon tomorrow, at the cathedral.” The bishop’s voice rises again, and Dierdra continues her translation. “He promises that those who murdered Narvaan Kel will be found and brought to justice.” I notice a number of people nearby reacting to the words, nodding their heads and even shaking their fists.

As the speech goes on, the crowd becomes more angry and agitated. Dierdra continues, “He is talking about wizardry now. He says that Bishop Narvaan Kel had made a major discovery, an obvious violation of the prohibition on magic, and he was undoubtedly killed for it. He is telling the crowd that Bishop Kel’s killers were practitioners and friends of wizardry, and that they are enemies of the people and the church.”

Sporadic shouts of anger rise from the people now. “People are calling for the blood of the Circle Cultists,” Dierdra whispers. “They want them rounded up now.”

“Will Bishop Rul tell them the truth?” I ask.

“Wait,” Dierdra says, as Bishop Rul continues. “No,” she says, “he is telling the people to place their faith in the church, and to pray that those who have been wronged will be avenged. Now he is closing with a prayer.” The bishop bows his head and prays. But the people are not ready for prayer, they are ready for action. If a Circle Cultist were to walk into the market square at this moment, I am certain that he or she would be ripped to pieces.

Bishop Rul and Father Dortag step off the platform and start walking toward the cathedral. But Father Hafhmar Maan is still standing there, watching the crowd. After looking over the scene for a minute, he raises his arms and shouts out above the noise. Bishop Rul’s head whips around and he starts to walk back toward the platform, but Father Dortag stops him, grabbing his arm.

“What is Father Hafhmar saying?” I ask.

“He is telling the people that there is more that they should know, that the church has discovered the same evidence that Bishop Narvaan Kel must have found years ago,” Dierdra says.

“He’s going to accuse the imperial government,” I say.

At that moment he reaches into a pouch tied at his waist and pulls out the orb that I left in the cathedral. Holding it in his hand high above his head, he opens his mouth to continue. My eyes are focused on the reddish orange piece of glass.

Dierdra translates as Father Hafhmar speaks, “Here, I hold in my hand proof of the sinful deceit practiced by …”

I hear a low thwack, and a crossbow bolt sinks into the center of the priest’s chest. He stands there, wavering slightly, and then the orb rolls off his fingertips. I want to shout, to scream out, but I stand there frozen as the orb falls to the ground. It shatters on the frozen cobblestones, and instantly a fifty-meter-wide circle of flames engulfs the square. Instinctively, I leap away, grabbing Dierdra’s arm. We are not quick enough to completely avoid being singed by the flames. Dierdra rolls on the ground and I throw snow on her to put out her smoldering skirt.

I look back, and dozens of townspeople are screaming in agony as they burn. A young man runs from the square enveloped in flames, waving his arms wildly. He barely reaches the edge of the fire before he falls to the ground. The purplish scarlet field of flames leaps and twists a couple of meters into the air, illuminating the area with its strange light.

Looking behind me at the town hall, I glimpse the brown cloaked back of the assassin as he or she slips away from an open balcony, carrying a crossbow.

Those people who were outside the circle of flames are running away in a panic, many of them falling to the ground as they are pushed or shoved aside. The screams die down as the burning victims expire.

“The church is using magic against the people,” an imperial halberdier shouts out from across the square. “We have witnessed it.”

As rapidly as the flames appeared, they disappear. All that remains in the square is the burning and smoldering corpses of the victims. The stench of singed wool and burnt flesh assaults my senses. Tears well up in my eyes as I glimpse the blackened bodies of a pair of children amongst the dead. Several dozen people stand nearby, frozen in disbelief, but most are already racing out of the square. I know in that moment that the path my life is taking has changed forever.

“Get up,” I say to Dierdra. “Get up now.”

Dierdra scrambles to her feet. Looking back over my shoulder, I see the halberdier staring in our direction.

“Rocalla,” says Dierdra.

“I know,” I say. “We need to go.”

With that, we take off at a run. The square is quiet now, too quiet, and the streets are empty except for the distant backs of panicked townsfolk and the broken bodies of those who have been trampled on the way. I want to stop and help them, but fear has gripped me, fear of the reality of our situation. We do not stop running until we are inside Mariyiybha’s door.