Free The Silver Lake by Fiona Patton Page B

it’s just as it seems,” Jemil answered mildly.
    “Bollocks. There are no unsworn in Anavatan. It’s the City of the Gods; everyone follows one Deity or another here.”
    Jemil raised an eyebrow at him.
    “Well, apart from the odd foreigner ...”
    “Apart from all foreigners,” the physician retorted. “Of whom there are a great many, even in springtime. The docks are teeming with Rostovics, Volinski, Petchans,Tha sosians, and many others, not to mention the Yuruk, all of whom have no relationship with the Gods of Gol-Beyaz.”
    “No, but they must have a relationship with some God or another. Besides, on Havo’s Dance there isn’t so much as a rat’s arse to be seen on the streets of Anavatan. The citizens are all locked safely behind their own shutters and the foreigners are all holed up in hostels or taverns.”
    “What about the poor?” Jemil prodded.
    “What about the poor? Don’t they have shutters of their own?”
    “Do they?”
    “How should I know? Bey Neclan?”
    “Anyone in need of shelter during Havo’s Dance is welcome at Oristo’s temples,” she answered stiffly. “Whether they be rich, poor, Anavatanon or foreigner. This is known throughout the city.”
    “Yes, but for a price, Sayin,” Jemil noted gently.
    “Of course for a price, but no price higher than is possible to be paid,” she snapped back angrily. “Those who do not have money may offer service. All are protected on Havo’s Dance. Period.”
    “So, what does it mean, then?” Aurad repeated.
    “I don’t know, I’m not a seer.”
    “Enough.” Freyiz frowned at all three of them. “Yusef?”
    The delinkos started.
    “Yes, Sayin?”
    “You’ve been trying to speak for some time now, what is it that you wish to add?”
    “Um, nothing of any real importance, Sayin, it’s just that Havo would not respond tonight anyway ...”
    “I’m sure,” Neclan sniffed.
    The delinkos flushed and Freyiz cast Oristo’s bey a reproving glance.
    “Please, go on, Yusef.”
    “Um ... it’s just that our God will be out in force tonight, and if anything is stirring on the streets of Anavatan, Havo will know of it. We can always petition for answers in the morning.”
    “An excellent idea,” Aurad declared. “So, we inform our temples’ leaders—those leaders that aren’t already here today, of course,” he added, winking at Neclan who ignored him. “They petition the Gods, and we wait and see. Unless, of course, Bey Freyiz, there’s more?”
    “No more at the moment.”
    “Good. Then it’s settled.” Rubbing his hands together vigorously, he made to rise, but Neclan frowned him back into his seat.
    “We still have the damage reports from across the city, Aurad- Delin ,” she reminded him.
    “Oh, right.” As the clerks came forward hesitantly, he made a resigned gesture at the steward to refill his cup.
    Across from him, Kemal rubbed Jaq’s belly with one foot while he mulled over Incasa’s prophecy. The child in his own dream had been standing on the streets of Anavatan, but he hadn’t seen any dogs or weapons and Aurad was right, there were no unsworn, whether citizen or foreigner, vulnerable on Havo’s Dance. Were there? He frowned. What if the child were to be born during Havo’s Dance, but draw strength later? That would fit. Sort of. But again Aurad was right; everyone in Anavatan was sworn to one of the six Deities of Gol-Beyaz. Weren’t they? He rubbed his forehead as a faint throbbing began to make itself felt across his temples. He was no battle-seer and interpreting prophecy always gave him a headache. Knowing this, the Battle God rarely asked it of him.
    A whisper of intimate power caressed his cheek, and with relief, he let it go. Something was happening, but Estavia would tell him when and where he should do something about it. In the meantime, he had other, less confusing things to concentrate on. Straightening his back, he tried to look interested in the damage reports.
    Murad was waiting at