Crown of Silence by Constantine Storm

Author:Constantine, Storm [Constantine, Storm]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen: Prophecy of the Cat Goddess

On the feast day of the cat goddess Purryah, Merlan Leckery ate a god. He was drunk at the time, and probably would have refused otherwise. His friend, the young Mewtish commander, Herupka, had egged him on, telling him he was infested with demons, who were sapping his strength. Merlan was convinced the weariness that had oppressed him for the past few days was only the effects of the oppressive heat that preceded the annual flood, but because Herupka was so insistent, gave in.

In Mewt there were no discernible seasons. Once a year, the normally slow and lazy River Tahati burst its banks in a great flood that irrigated the land. On the day this began to happen, Purryah had a feast, which was necessarily rather an impromptu affair. It was said the inundation was caused by the weeping of forty river goddesses, who lived in caves in the uplands of Elatine, where the river was narrow and crashing and fierce. Mewt was a land where the gods outnumbered the populace. Why have only one river goddess when you could have forty? Any priest could make a god for you, on a scrap of parchment with some spit and a smudge of black ink. He would name it for you and then it might act in your favour. If you ate the god, or rather the parchment bearing his name, you might have visions or be able to smite an enemy with a thought. You could also banish demons who had procured temporary lodgings in your body.

Merlan hadn’t really taken it seriously. He had sat in the shade in the outer court of Purryah’s temple, while Herupka chattered to the presiding priest in Mewtish. He felt light-headed, dreamy, and the incense smoke came out of the temple in drifts, pouring like perfume down his throat. Later, when the priest, appeased by money, brought out the brown scrap and handed it to Merlan, he felt unnerved. He didn’t want to do it.

‘Now,’ said Herupka, and Merlan thought about how the Mewts secretly hated the Magravandians, and Herupka, under cover of friendship, might have organised a poisoning. No one knew they were there. His employer, Lord Maycarpe, was out in the desert. Merlan had spoken to no one before they’d left. Still, the heat and scent of the incense worked their own magic, and Merlan swallowed the scrap. It seemed to melt in his mouth; perhaps it was made out of rice paper.

‘You have taken Merytet into you,’ said the priest in Mewtish.

‘Merytet?’ Merlan felt as if he’d taken a draught of a powerful narcotic philtre and must wait for its body-racking effects.

‘A daughter of Purryah,’ Herupka said. ‘She will identify the demon and cast it out.’

What demon? thought Merlan, and then remembered a thousand of them. Not supernatural beings from beyond the veil, but very real ones: fears, anxieties. Sometimes, he felt privileged being part of Maycarpe’s magical machine, but at other times, he felt

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