Free The Silver Lake by Fiona Patton Page A

of Incasa’s vision-gifts, she was bundled in layer upon layer of heavy woolens to keep out the damp. Even so, she gave off an air of earthly fragility combined with immense unearthly power. It was said that she ruled Incasa’s temple with an iron fist and even the God trod lightly when she was angered. No one at that table would have dared to disagree. After allowing her delinkos to help her onto her cushion, she swept her inward gaze across the table, taking in the gathered representatives despite her outer blindness. She gestured.
    “Please sit.”
    When everyone had returned to their seats, she turned her milky-white gaze on Kemal. “Something is happening,” she said firmly.
    He started.
    “Incasa has sent this image to me in a dream,” she continued, turning her head slightly to address the entire council, “a child of great potential still unformed standing on the streets of Anavatan. The twin dogs of creation and destruction crouch at its feet. The child is ringed by silver swords and golden knives and its eyes are filled with fire. It draws strength from Anavatan’s unsworn and will be born tonight under the cover of Havo’s Dance.”
    There was silence across the assembly table. When she did not elaborate further, Jemil stirred.
    “What does it mean, Sayin?”
    She gave an eloquent shrug. “The God is being ... cryptic,” she replied with a grimace. “But the simplest answer would be that something of great potential for either good or ill will begin tonight.”
    “Some thing or some one?”
    “The image of the child could be either literal or symbolic. Incasa has not seen fit to enlighten me regarding which it may be. Yet.”
    Her tone was one of annoyance and Kemal stifled a smile. Remembering his own dream, he made to speak and suddenly felt himself silenced as if a cloud of mist had taken hold of his tongue. Startled, he closed his mouth.
    “Did Incasa indicate what He wishes done about this ... delon?” Jemil continued, using the more urban word for child.
    “No.”
    “Then why ... ?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “What could we do, anyway?” Aurad interjected with an impatient wave of his teacup. “We can’t go out looking for it, whether it’s real or symbolic, not on Havo’s Second Night. We’d all be swept into the strait.”
    “Perhaps Incasa has left the decision up to each one of us whether to risk that or not,” Neclan countered stiffly.
    Freyiz inclined her head toward her. “Possibly.”
    “Or perhaps we’re simply to recognize that it’s happening and act at a later date,” Jemil offered.
    “Again, possibly.”
    Aurad frowned. “Well, that’s all fine and good, but if the choice is mine I choose to remain indoors tonight.”
    Jemil took a sip of tea before nodding in agreement. “I’m concerned about the these images of swords and knives, however, as well as the ... what was it?”
    “Twin dogs of creation and destruction,” Aurad supplied, watching as Jaq padded around the table to lie beside Freyiz, his head resting gently against one white-clad knee. She reached down to stroke his ears absently.
    “Yes. I like the former well enough, just not the latter, and I don’t like that it’s happening on the streets of Anavatan,” Jemil continued.
    “It’s bad for trade,” Aurad agreed.
    “It’s bad for the security of Anavatan’s citizens,” Neclan snapped. “Oristo’s and Usara’s temples are responsible for the well-being of the city and Estavia’s for its safety,” she added, giving a stiff jerk of a nod in Kemal’s direction. “If nothing else, we should at least petition our own Gods for answers to this riddle.”
    Freyiz inclined her head. “Yes, that would be the wis est course of action at this time, Neclan-Delin, even if these weapons are merely symbolic of something else entirely.”
    “Nice to see that’s sorted out, then,” Aurad noted. “Now what’s all this nonsense about the unsworn; what’s that symbolic of?”
    “Perhaps