Page 95 of Dark Destiny: A New Thread in the Tapestry

"I'm in my garden, the sun's not up yet, and I'm fine, but I don't have long, and there is a lot to report."

Sullha translated for Kian and Onegus.

"There was a big explosion, but no one told us what happened," Burda continued. "So, I can't tell you what it was. All I know is that the next day they came for the First Mother. They put her in solitary confinement, and no one is allowed to see her except for the teacher they brought, and that's the biggest news of all. He's an immortal, Sullha. An immortal male is inside the enclosure. No immortal male has ever set foot inside these walls. Now there's one standing at the front of the dining hall twice a day and lecturing us."

"About what?" Sullha asked, then translated.

"The true way of Mortdh. He says that children are sacred to Mortdh, that the god treasures every child born to the faithful and would severely punish anyone who even thinks of harming a child." She snorted. "No one dares point out that thirteen-year-olds are still children, and yet they are severely harmed. The boys in the brutal training and the girls in the breeding building."

"I'm surprised you didn't say anything."

Burda chuckled. "I'm not stupid. Besides, I know why he's saying that children are sacred and that the females who spoke of sacrifice were twisting the god's word. He's protecting the children, so I don't care about all the other nonsense he's spouting. It's working on the fanatics, which is what's important. The loudest hammers are those who nod the hardest, agreeing with him, so as far as I'm concerned, he can keep talking for as long as he wants. He's also spending a lot of time with the First Mother."

As Sullha finished translating, Onegus and Kian exchanged a look across the table.

"He's an immortal, and she and every woman in there are human," Onegus said. "Or Dormant, which, for this purpose, is the same because they're susceptible to thralling. But since Burda isn't affected and says he's spouting nonsense, I have to assume he's not a strong thraller and can't thrall many women at once, or Burda would be nodding along too. He's doing most of his work with the First Mother, taking her apart and rebuilding her the way they want her."

Kian leaned back and crossed his arms. "Smart. Instead of killing her, Losham decided to reprogram her."

Sullha knew what they were talking about. She'd watched Yaaf hush an entire courtyard with a thought and had learned how little a human mind could do to keep an immortal out. Burda had seen Yaaf in action too, but she might not have realized the teacher was doing something similar, except instead of visual illusions, he was feeding them thoughts that weren't their own.

"I know what he's doing," she said to Onegus. "Can I tell Burda?"

He nodded. "You must, because that so-called teacher could lift information from her head. Tell her that distance matters and that she should avoid talking to him one on one, if she can help it, or even looking at him."

Sullha swallowed the ball of dread that lodged in her throat. "Burda, listen to me. That teacher is more than a teacher. He can put thoughts into a person's head and read some of your own thoughts, which could expose you. If you are forced to listen to his sermons, make sure you sit as far away from him as you can. Don't let him talk to you alone or even look him in the eyes. Keep your head down and stay out of his reach."

"I'm an old woman with a garden and a bad attitude," Burda said. "No one pays me any attention. But I hear you, and I'll keep my distance. The sky's turning gray, and I should go. Tell your new friends that the children are safe for now."

"I'll tell them. Thank you. Be safe, and call when you can."

"I will. Goodbye, Sullha."

As the call ended, Kian uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. "I expected a body. Instead, Losham is turning the First Mother into his mouthpiece. A dead First Mother is a martyr the cult can pray to and even do what she wanted them to do. A living one who preaches whatever Losham wants is a weapon he can point wherever he likes." He shook his head. "I don't like how clever he is."

"His idea is working," Onegus said. "And what's important right now is that no children are going to be sacrificed to Mortdh. We will deal with Losham's cleverness when we need to."

"That's true to an extent," Kian said, sounding grim. "A thrall has its limitations. It can't change fundamental beliefs any more than it can turn a bad person into a good one or vice versa. The First Mother and her followers built that belief system out of grief because it gave them a reason to get up in the morning. That teacher can press people like that into agreeing with him, but keeping them there is another matter. The moment the pressure lifts, some of them will drift right back to the thing that made them feel better about themselves and their place in the world." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll believe the cult is done when it stays done without a thrall holding it down. Until then, I'm glad the children are safe this morning, but I'm not celebrating."

Sullha understood what he was saying, and she had to agree. Those women had chosen to believe that their misery was a sacred duty and that the cage was a blessing because that was the only way they could cope with their reality.

That reality hadn't changed.

It was just paused for now because of events that had nothing to do with them, and the moment the guests returned to the island and the women were called to the breeding building, they would reach for the only thing that gave them comfort.

37

YAAF

They packed everything they owned into eight backpacks, and there was still room to spare, but it was still more than they had arrived with.

It was ironic that the most powerful people in the Brotherhood had nothing. The credits they had been paid with were worthless anywhere outside the island, and they hadn't had enough time to accumulate expensive jewelry like some of the more seasoned warriors were doing.

Hell, a month ago they hadn't even owned the names their mothers had given them at birth.

Now each of them had a backpack the clan had provided them, filled with clothes and shoes the clan had also supplied, and Yaaf couldn't decide whether it was pathetic or hopeful.

We are accumulating, Ravsoh observed. Maybe by the next move we will fill the backpack to the top. The sarcasm was almost funny, which, for Ravsoh, was an achievement.