From the corner of my eye, I saw Siehs smile fade.
Extend life? I had heard rumors about what some scriveners did with their powersterrible, foul rumors. It occurred to me suddenly that my grandfather was very, very old.
Viraine nodded, his eyes twinkling at the disapproval in my tone. It is the great quest of our profession. Someday we might even achieve immortality He read the horror in my face and smiled. Though that goal is not without controversy.
My grandmother had always said the Amn were unnatural people. I looked away. Tvril said you were going to mark me.
He grinned, openly amused now. Laughing at the prudish savage. Mmm-hmm.
What does this mark do?
Keeps the Enefadeh from killing you, among other things. Youve seen what they can be like.
I licked my lips. Ah. Yes. I didnt know they were I gestured vaguely, unsure how to say what I meant without offending Sieh.
Running around loose? Sieh asked brightly. There was a wicked look in his eye; he was enjoying my discomfiture.
I winced. Yes.
Mortal form is their prison, Viraine said, ignoring Sieh. And every soul in Sky, their jailer. They are bound by Bright Itempas to serve the descendants of Shahar Arameri, His greatest priestess. But since Shahars descendants now number in the thousands He gestured toward the windows, as if the whole world was one clan. Or perhaps he simply meant Sky, the only world that mattered to him. Our ancestors chose to impose a more orderly structure on the situation. The mark confirms for the Enefadeh that youre Arameri; without it they will not obey you. It also specifies your rank within the family. How close you are to the main line of descent, I mean, which in turn dictates how much power you have to command them.
He picked up a brush, though he did not dip it in the ink; instead he reached up to my face, pushing my hair back from my forehead. My heart clenched as he examined me. Clearly Viraine was some sort of expert; could he truly not see Zhakkas mark? For an instant I thought he had, because his eyes flicked down to hold mine for half a breath. But apparently the gods had done their work well, because after a moment Viraine let my hair go and began to stir the ink.
Tvril said the mark was permanent, I said, mostly to quell my nervousness. The black liquid looked like simple writing ink, though the sigil-marked block was clearly no ordinary inkstone.
Unless Dekarta orders it removed, yes. Like a tattoo, though painless. Youll get used to it.
I was not fond of a permanent mark, though I knew better than to protest. To distract myself I asked, Why do you call them Enefadeh?
The look that crossed Viraines face was fleeting, but I recognized it by instinct: calculation. I had just revealed some stunning bit of ignorance to him, and he meant to use it.
Casually, Viraine jabbed a thumb at Sieh, who was surreptitiously eyeing the items on Viraines worktable. Its what they call themselves. We just find the label convenient.
Why not
We dont call them gods. Viraine smiled faintly. That would be an offense to the Skyfather, our only true god, and those of the Skyfathers children who stayed loyal. But we cant call them slaves, either. After all, we outlawed slavery centuries ago.
This was the sort of thing that made people hate the Arameritruly hate them, not just resent their power or their willingness to use it. They found so many ways to lie about the things they did. It mocked the suffering of their victims.
Why not just call them what they are? I asked. Weapons.
Sieh glanced at me, his gaze too neutral to be a childs in that instant.
Viraine winced delicately. Spoken like a true barbarian, he said, and though he smiled, that did nothing to alleviate the insult. The thing you must understand, Lady Yeine, is that like our ancestress Shahar, we Arameri are first and foremost the servants of Itempas Skyfather. It is in His name that we have imposed the age of the Bright upon the world. Peace, order, enlightenment. He spread his hands. Itempass servants do not use, or need, weapons. Tools, though
I had heard enough. I had no idea of his rank relative to mine, but I was tired and confused and far from home, and if barbarians manners would serve better to get me through this day, then so be it.
Does Enefadeh mean tool, then? I demanded. Or is it just slave in another tongue?
It means we who remember Enefa, said Sieh. He had propped his chin on his fist. The items on Viraines workbench looked the same, but I was certain he had done something to them. She was the one murdered by Itempas long ago. We went to war with Him to avenge her.
Enefa. The priests never said her name. The Betrayer, I murmured without thought.
She betrayed no one, Sieh snapped.
Viraines glance at Sieh was heavy-lidded and unreadable. True. A whores business can hardly be termed a betrayal, can it?