Read Online Sword of the Deceiver by Sarah Zettel - Free Book Online
Authors: Sarah Zettel
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been gilded and then robed in precious white silks. Heaps of colored rice lay in lacquered dishes on the altar between the bowls of burning incense that filled the air with the scents of precious resins.
Sitara had thought she would enter and sit, counting her beads and going through the motions of meditation as she had so many times on this journey. But as she paused on the threshold, in the presence of the Awakened One’s image, she stopped, and could not make herself go forward. Never had her body felt so heavy and so weak at the same time. At last, her knees gave way under her and she dropped across the woven matting, prostrating herself.
It is anger, it is vanity. It is sin. I know it is sin, but I cannot let them keep her. I cannot leave them free to crush our land and wipe away Anidita’s teachings here. I
cannot.
She looked up at the Awakened One, seeing him through a film of tears.
Please, give me a sign. Tell me I am the one who will take this sin into the next life. Let my husband and my children be spared. Give them strength to stand …
Stand what? Stand with her? Stand against her? She closed her eyes and the tears fell down her cheeks. This was wrong. She should have the strength to let the wheel of time turn and to accept destiny for herself and her family. But even as she thought this, she saw again the Hastinapuran priest’s glittering eyes and heard him proclaim that her children were the property of Hastinapura’s gods.
I do not have that much strength
.
Sitara wiped her eyes and prostrated herself again. Then, shaking, she pushed herself to her knees and turned toward Father Thanom. At some point, he had knelt next to her, and waited in silence beside her through the storm of her weeping. She had an apology poised on the tip of her tongue, but the abbot spoke first.
“Is there anything you wish to tell me, daughter?”
Daughter. It had been a very long time since she had been less than “my queen,” to any man but her husband.
The idea of not being who she was, of being daughter to someone again, sang to Sitara. She had meant to keep her silence. Speech was not safe, not even here. But when she peered toward the future and saw all the ways that she must be strong, she hungered for a last moment of weakness.
So, kneeling there, she told Father Thanom all that had happened when the Hastinapurans had come with their doomed black horse. She told him how Natharie had volunteered to follow them as token sacrifice, and how Kiet had not only let Natharie go, but had let Sitara go to the monastery with her heart full of hate.
Father Thanom considered all this for a long time. “Your husband wishes you to cleanse yourself, so that you may return to your duties as wife and queen.”
She shook her head. “I cannot. I will not.”
“Your children will miss their mother.”
She turned her face away. “My children will be taken from me, one at a time, one way or another. It is already done.”
“Then what do you mean to do?”
With that, the moment for weakness ended. Sitara straightened her shoulders and took up her new role, as queen and as traitor. She must show the courage Natharie had shown, and she could never falter again. “Father Abbot, I cannot tell you,” she said. “I ask your forgiveness, but you are a holy man and I cannot taint you with knowledge of what I carry in my heart.”
She thought Father Thanom would rebuke her, but he only said, “Will you walk with me, daughter? There is something I think you should see.”
Wondering, Sitara followed him from the temple. The night was closing in fast, bringing with it the insistent song of frogs and the drone of insects to counterpoint the croaking, laughing sounds of the evening birds. The whole animal world sang, so at first it was difficult to hear the song of the human beings. Gradually, however, Sitara became aware that the thrum rising and falling beneath the wild noises grew clearer as they approached the low, plain
Sitara had thought she would enter and sit, counting her beads and going through the motions of meditation as she had so many times on this journey. But as she paused on the threshold, in the presence of the Awakened One’s image, she stopped, and could not make herself go forward. Never had her body felt so heavy and so weak at the same time. At last, her knees gave way under her and she dropped across the woven matting, prostrating herself.
It is anger, it is vanity. It is sin. I know it is sin, but I cannot let them keep her. I cannot leave them free to crush our land and wipe away Anidita’s teachings here. I
cannot.
She looked up at the Awakened One, seeing him through a film of tears.
Please, give me a sign. Tell me I am the one who will take this sin into the next life. Let my husband and my children be spared. Give them strength to stand …
Stand what? Stand with her? Stand against her? She closed her eyes and the tears fell down her cheeks. This was wrong. She should have the strength to let the wheel of time turn and to accept destiny for herself and her family. But even as she thought this, she saw again the Hastinapuran priest’s glittering eyes and heard him proclaim that her children were the property of Hastinapura’s gods.
I do not have that much strength
.
Sitara wiped her eyes and prostrated herself again. Then, shaking, she pushed herself to her knees and turned toward Father Thanom. At some point, he had knelt next to her, and waited in silence beside her through the storm of her weeping. She had an apology poised on the tip of her tongue, but the abbot spoke first.
“Is there anything you wish to tell me, daughter?”
Daughter. It had been a very long time since she had been less than “my queen,” to any man but her husband.
The idea of not being who she was, of being daughter to someone again, sang to Sitara. She had meant to keep her silence. Speech was not safe, not even here. But when she peered toward the future and saw all the ways that she must be strong, she hungered for a last moment of weakness.
So, kneeling there, she told Father Thanom all that had happened when the Hastinapurans had come with their doomed black horse. She told him how Natharie had volunteered to follow them as token sacrifice, and how Kiet had not only let Natharie go, but had let Sitara go to the monastery with her heart full of hate.
Father Thanom considered all this for a long time. “Your husband wishes you to cleanse yourself, so that you may return to your duties as wife and queen.”
She shook her head. “I cannot. I will not.”
“Your children will miss their mother.”
She turned her face away. “My children will be taken from me, one at a time, one way or another. It is already done.”
“Then what do you mean to do?”
With that, the moment for weakness ended. Sitara straightened her shoulders and took up her new role, as queen and as traitor. She must show the courage Natharie had shown, and she could never falter again. “Father Abbot, I cannot tell you,” she said. “I ask your forgiveness, but you are a holy man and I cannot taint you with knowledge of what I carry in my heart.”
She thought Father Thanom would rebuke her, but he only said, “Will you walk with me, daughter? There is something I think you should see.”
Wondering, Sitara followed him from the temple. The night was closing in fast, bringing with it the insistent song of frogs and the drone of insects to counterpoint the croaking, laughing sounds of the evening birds. The whole animal world sang, so at first it was difficult to hear the song of the human beings. Gradually, however, Sitara became aware that the thrum rising and falling beneath the wild noises grew clearer as they approached the low, plain
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