100 Olabar

Roused by hushed but urgent alarms, Imir hurried to the First Wife's quarters, still groggy with sleep. At first, he blurrily wondered if desert bandits had attacked the Olabar palace. “What is it? Why all the fuss?” Many people stirred in the corridors. Something bad must have happened. “Where is the emergency?”

Meeting him near Omra's quarters, Kel Rovic wore a grim expression. “I will allow Lady Istar to explain, my Lord—this is serious news indeed.”

The former soldan-shah had hoped to have no more nights like this, after retiring as the leader of Uraba. He remembered his own father's weary face, when Shieltar had gratefully surrendered the ring of leadership to Imir, so many years ago. “A soldan-shah's life is never his own, my son. The land and the people are yours now… and all that comes with them.” Old Shieltar had not lived to enjoy his later years, though; the old arrow wound still pained him, and he had died in his sleep six months later….

With no other choice, Imir easily slipped back into the role as he accompanied Kel Rovic into Istar's quarters. With a glance he saw the girls Cithara and Adreala sitting together, frightened. Naori came running in with her two young sons in tow, her eyes wide; young Irec began to cry, and Naori tried to shush him.

Istar soothed Omra's other wife, “It's all right now, Naori. We're safe.”

Imir barged in. “Safe from what?” He didn't like not knowing what had happened.

Raising her head, as if it took great effort, Istar met his gaze squarely. “Cithara was sent here to assassinate me. We must act quickly, while the sikaras still think they might have succeeded. This is all Villiki's scheme.”

“The sikaras? Villiki?” As Imir stared in disbelief, Cliaparia's daughter came up to him, knelt in respect, and held out a sharp silver dagger.

“With this knife, I was commanded to kill Mother Istar.”

The former soldan-shah turned his glare toward Kel Rovic and took half a step backward from the point of the dagger. “Then why does the girl still have the blade?”

Istar held up her hand. “Because I gave it back to her. I trust her. She is, and always has been, a true daughter to me.”

Shaking his head, Imir slumped onto the pile of cushions on the floor. “By the Eye of Urec, please tell me what is going on… although I'm already sure I won't like it. Somebody start from the beginning.”

As Cithara recounted her tale, he listened with growing anger. His face burned, and his hands clenched into hard fists when he learned that Villiki was not only alive after all, but still active in the church, and still very much attempting to destroy her rivals. “I knew I should have executed her when her crimes were revealed, but I couldn't do it. She was my wife, the mother of Tukar—and he too paid the price.” He curled his hands together, as if wrapping them around her neck. “It was a mistake to show mercy to her.”

“Her heart is poison, but it is she who made the mistake,” Istar said. “When you banished her, Villiki could have made a new life for herself, could have found a place in the world, could have found contentment. Instead, she chose to do this, and the church of Urec supports and shelters her. According to Cithara, the priestesses are actively aware of her schemes—even the ur-sikara herself.”

“The rot goes deep, but I'm not surprised.” Imir heaved a sigh. “There was a reason why I turned the ring over to Omra. I am disgusted with such politics. Right now, Adreala and I should be feasting with the Nunghals.”

Istar's voice was steady. “You may have retired, Imir, but you will always be a soldan-shah. You can't hide from Uraba.”

Adreala spoke up. “What about Istala? She's still an acolyte. What if they hold her hostage? We need to get my sister out of the church.”

Imir looked fondly at the girl. Adreala had matured greatly during her brief time away from the palace. “I already rescued one granddaughter from desert bandits. Now we must save another from a treacherous snake that lives right here in Olabar. And there is no time to lose.”

Kel Rovic had listened to the entire discussion. “We must be swift as well as cautious. I will prepare my men for immediate action.”

When Imir drew himself up, he felt like the soldan-shah once more. “There is no time to summon Omra from Ishalem—we need to do something tonight. Villiki expects an assassination. She ordered Cithara to make her move quickly, and she will have her spies everywhere.”

“If she's hiding in the main church, how do we find her?” Istar said. “The sikaras will protect her.” From her expression, she looked perfectly willing to tear down the doors and walls of the great stone building to get inside.

“I command loyalties that you do not, Lady Istar. Leave it to me.” He'd had his own issues with the priestesses during his rule, and Villiki—his Second Wife—had been a former sikara. He knew their tricks and their schemes. Fortunately, since he was no longer soldan-shah, Imir did not have to pander to them; he could take immediate action and not worry about the consequences. And it was about time.

He raised his voice. “We will go immediately, with as many men as we can muster. The sikaras may think themselves safe inside their church, but no church will protect a woman who sends a child to do her killing! Long ago she tried to assassinate Omra, and now his First Wife. Kel Rovic, tonight we march on the main church, rescue Istala, and arrest Villiki.”

A hundred armed soldiers spilled out of the Olabar palace and into the shadowy streets, their booted feet ringing on the paving stones. Behind darkened windows, lamps and candles began to shine like glowing eyes as the commotion awoke sleeping citizens. The men pressed forward in hushed ranks faster than rumors could spread.

Imir and Kel Rovic took the lead, with Lady Istar and her daughters close behind. Adreala's face wore a fierce look, and she kept her own dagger at her side. She had insisted on going along. “I fought desert bandits, Mother—I can hold off a few priestesses. We've got to get Istala away from them.”

Once they got inside the towering stone edifice, they would rely on Cithara to take them directly to Villiki's lair deep within the labyrinth of the main church. The former soldan-shah did not intend to tolerate any delays. He had made the mistake of compassion once, and he didn't intend to let his venomous former wife slip away again.

Having set her scheme in motion, the vile woman would be expecting to hear that Lady Istar had been murdered, or that Cithara had been caught and possibly killed in the attempt. Knowing Villiki's arrogance, Imir was sure she could never imagine that her plot would fail entirely and that soldiers were already on the way to seize her.

Imir and Istar were not trying to exact revenge against all the priestesses of Urec, only against Villiki and those who had tried to destroy Omra and his family. Regardless, whatever happened this night, the former soldan-shah realized it was likely to crack the Urecari church open to its spoiled core… and few people would thank them for it.

But so it must be.

The palace troops marched to the giant church with its numerous spires and looming thick doors. Orange braziers shone from many arched windows, and silhouetted figures looked down at the armed men who crowded the streets. As whispered word spread through the church, windows and doors were hastily shut.

Coming to a halt, the soldiers stared at the great building with religious awe. When three tall sikaras appeared on the balconies above, wearing their red robes, some of the men uttered quick prayers, begging Urec for forgiveness.

At this hesitation, Imir spoke harshly to the men. “Do you think Urec asked for this? Do you think his word tells us to train children to kill their own mothers?” Pushing forward, he led the first ranks of guards up to the tall wooden main doors.

Kel Rovic hammered with the rounded hilt of his scimitar. “Open up! Open these doors in the name of the soldan-shah!”

Close behind, Lady Istar whispered, “They'll think you're bringing news that I was murdered in my sleep. That's what they expect.”

“They will learn the truth soon enough.”

Rovic hammered on the door once more, and it finally opened a crack to reveal an elderly sikara. “This is a holy place. You may not enter!” She glanced at the soldiers and the former soldan-shah, but when she noticed Istar, she recoiled visibly.

Imir pressed his advantage, pushing against the door, though the old priestess pushed back. “Open up, woman!”

“You have no authority here!”

“I have all the authority I need. We know the church is harboring the traitor Villiki, who has been banished from the land. We've come to take her into custody.” Then he added in a deeper warning growl, “Any sikara who appears to be in league with Villiki will be stripped of her rank and publicly scourged. For starters.”

Kel Rovic and several soldiers added their weight. Unable to stand against the pressure, the old woman stumbled back, and the church doors crashed inward. Armed soldiers flooded inside, searching for Villiki.