Outside a receiving room in the palace, Dasha stood alone on the hard stone floor shifting her weight slowly from one foot to the other, swaying side to side as she held on to her walking staff. Each winter brought more aches to her joints, especially if she was motionless for too long. This year, the loss of her sight brought on debilitating headaches as well, a byproduct of her wounds and the intensification of her other senses.
How I have fallen! Less than a year ago, if I was summoned to the palace, it was to give counsel in matters of state, or to take part in feasts, or to provide blessings. Now, I come stripped of all rank. I am less than the servants who empty chamber pots. I stand here hoping for the sound of my sons' voices to drift to me on this damp air while I wait in a hallway in disgrace. I am not considered of enough import to be received in the throne room any longer.
She heard the click of the door latch before the smell of rosewater, incense, and sweat hit her.
Baraz.
She remembered the first time she saw him in the strigoi-viu's black tent, when she came to negotiate for the lives of the people of the temple. He was merely an advisor then. A small-boned man, built like a bird with a cruel face and groveling manners. A tool for the tyrant, just as she had become.
More smells drifted from the room. Leather. Smoke. Spices. Wine. And under it all, the faint scent of blood. So, the strigoi-viu himself will receive me today. The citizens have indeed frightened the beast.
"The God-Emperor bids you welcome, heresiarch,” said the high priest. “Do you need my assistance? Your Eyes cannot attend meetings of such importance as this.”
“I am grateful for the welcome, High Priest. I can manage on my own,” said Dasha, tapping her way forward with her staff. The room sounded smaller than she remembered. She could feel the heat radiating from the fireplace on the far wall, a respite from the cold flagstones in the hallway.
“Heresiarch,” said Mahleck. “Come, sit with me by the fire."
"Thank you, my King. The fire feels good to these old bones. The mountain winters seem colder every year,” said the old woman as she felt her way to the chair.
"It is not easy to grow old and closer to death each day,” said Mahleck. “The Zorya witch seemed to enjoy her fire as much as you do. Do all crones feel the same?”
Dasha spread her hands before the fire, heat seeping into her joints. Death. Death would be a release for these old bones. In the fire at least I would never feel cold again. The strigoi-viu speaks of death as if it was a threat. Life. Life under his control is much worse.
"I only live because you desire it, my God and King," said Dasha. And to keep my people from total destruction by your hands.
"We are curious. How do the citizens see the purification of the Zorya witch last evening?" asked Baraz. “It seemed as if her words stirred them into rebellion.”
"The witch spoke blasphemies and riddles about the blood of a false goddess and a destroyer. None should believe any of her words," said the old woman. "I cannot tell what they saw in the courtyard, only her words."
"What of this blood?" asked Mahleck. "Who is the blood of the demoness?"
"The demoness was the lifeblood of Adyll. All Adyllians claim her as their mother," said Dasha.
"What of the royal house? Are they not the true blood of this false goddess?" asked Baraz.
"It matters not. The last of that line is dead. The people saw you burn her remains,” said Dasha. “When I saw the Queen cradling the corpse of the Princess Irinya , I knew the Lady must be a lie. How could she not be false, if she allowed the death of her own child? When the Princess died, so did my faith. The night she died was the same night I came to the black tent to plead for mercy upon Adyll."
"So, you believe the blood of the goddess could mean any person with Adyllian blood?" asked Baraz.
Dasha turned to face the fire. "I believe it was the rambling of a crazed mind. The Zorya spend their days alone in their huts in the aspen forest, trying to see spirits with the aid of spider venom. This one would not be the first to lose her sanity."
"Some say they saw the spirits of the dead dancing in the fire as she was consumed," said Mahleck in a low voice.
"Such is the imagination of an ignorant populace who have yet to see the truth," said Dasha.
“Those who have the eyes to see truth saw truth. Even blind women such as yourself saw the illusion for what it was, a lie,” said Mahleck. “Those who love the demoness chose to see ghosts in the flames. By this choice, we can determine those fit to live and those who must die."
"Your methods are wise beyond understanding, my Lord,” said Baraz. “This shall be a test of the populace."
"Indeed," said Mahleck. "Do not forget, it was I who called down flame from heaven to destroy the witch and silence her heresy for all eternity. I will wipe away all the sins of Adyll with holy flame."
Dasha heard the scrape of wood on flagstone as Mahleck stood from his chair, and then his booted footsteps as he walked behind her. The scent of leather and blood followed him as he laid his hands on her shoulders.
"Heresiarch," said Mahleck. “You shall redeem yourself from your former sins by speaking the truth to the people. What they choose to believe will determine their fate in the coming days. The purifying flame of death, or a life under the one true God."
"Your mercy is infinite, my God and King," said Dasha.