The Vanished Queen by Lisbeth Campbell

Author:Lisbeth Campbell [Campbell, Lisbeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Saga Press
Published: 2020-08-18T00:00:00+00:00

ATTENDANCE AT THE execution of the arsonists could not be entirely compelled—there was not enough space in Temple Square, large as it was, for all the residents of the city, for one thing—but Anza and Radd worked much too visibly not to go. A little before midday they left his office. On their way to the square, they passed soldiers going in the other direction, ready to search shops and offices for people who had hung back.

On an ordinary day, vendors on the perimeter of the square offered religious charms: amulets with the signs of the gods, special candles and herbs and oils for offerings, prayer stones, and holy scrolls. The public scribes were there too, and untrustworthy apothecaries. All of them had been removed. Soldiers lined the square and stood with bows at the ready on the upper balconies of the nearby buildings. The priests would watch from the Temple steps, ready to receive the spirits of the condemned.

Anza and Radd took a place on the Temple side of the square, next to a row of ancient mulberry trees that provided some shade. The heat of the day was already intense. The pyre must have been prepared the night before. It was one long pyre with separate posts and chains for the victims, raised a few feet above the ground. Fitting for arsonists, but so cruel. Soldiers with unsheathed swords held the crowds back from all sides of the pyre. The Vetian flags, dark blue with the silver wolf’s head of the house of Kazdjan on them, were limp and motionless in the heat.

People talked, but in low voices. This sort of public execution had stopped being entertainment a long time ago. One never knew who would be next. The harpies were gathering in the trees and on the rooftops. From the walled Temple garden behind Anza, honeysuckle released its scent. Fallen and trampled mulberries had attracted wasps. The insects’ wings moved up and down as they sucked.

If she looked over her shoulder, she would see only the Temple, a large ancient building with its gilded dome shining in the sun and its tall bell tower obscuring the Citadel. It was no protection. Mirantha had not turned to the Temple for sanctuary, not even after her priestly lover was killed.

Esvar was up there in the Citadel, biding his own time. They weren’t done with each other, he and she, but Anza had no idea what to do next.

Radd said, startling her, “As soon as people are allowed to leave the city again, I want you to go to my family in Osk. I’ll come as soon as I can after that. We can start over there. It’s closer to your family, too.”

“You’ve taken care of me more than enough,” Anza said. “I can’t leave now.”

“Why not? Now that you have left Rumil, what other obligations do you have?”

She wanted to tell him everything, starting with her father’s death. Tell him about that, and the resistance, and Sparrow, and the prince.

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