The Priory of the Orange Tree (The Roots of Chaos)

They had taken the rising jewel. It was the first thing she knew when she woke: the empty feeling of its absence. She was lying in a room of salmon-colored stone, and her hands were tied behind her back.

A woman with a shaved head and warm brown skin stood in the doorway.

“Who are you?”

She spoke in Ersyri. Tané knew a little of the language, but said nothing.

The woman watched her. “You were carrying a ring belonging to Queen Sabran of Inys,” she said. “I would like to know if she sent you here.” When Tané only looked away, her lips tightened. “You were also carrying a blue jewel. Where did you find it?”

She knew how to withstand interrogation. Pirates would do all manner of things to their enemies to bleed them of their secrets. To prepare for the worst, all apprentices had to prove that they could suffer a beating from a soldier without revealing their name.

Tané had not made a sound in hers.

When no reply was forthcoming, the woman changed her tone. “You and your sea beast injured one of our sisters and slew another,” she said. “If you cannot give some justification for your crime, we will have no choice but to execute you. Even if you had not spilled our blood, consorting with a wyrm is punishable by death.”

She could not reveal the truth. They would never yield a fruit from their sacred tree to a dragonrider.

“At least tell me who you are,” the woman said, softer. “Save yourself, child.”

“I will speak to Chassar uq-Ispad,” Tané said. “No one else.”

With a small frown, the woman left.

Tané tried to clear her head. From the light, it would not be long until sunset. She fought to stay awake, but she found herself drifting as her body chased the rest she had denied it.

Nayimathun would get away. She could swim downriver faster than any human could run.

A man entered her prison, jolting her from a doze. A knife was tucked into a crimson sash around his middle. A robe of purple brocade, embellished with silverwork, crossed over his massive chest.

“I am Chassar uq-Ispad,” he said. His voice was deep and gentle. “I am told you speak Ersyri.”

Tané watched him sit in front of her.

“I have come here for a fruit of the orange tree,” she said, “to take to Eadaz uq-Nāra.”

“Eadaz.” Surprise jumped into his eyes, then pain. “Child, I do not know what you have heard of Eadaz, or how you know her name, but the fruit cannot bring back the dead.”

“She is not dead. Poisoned, but alive. With the fruit, I can save her.”

He froze as if she had struck him.

“Who told you about me?” he asked hoarsely. “About the Priory?”

“Lord Arteloth Beck.”

At this, Chassar uq-Ispad looked very tired.

“I see.” He knuckled his temple. “I suppose you also meant to take the blue jewel to Eadaz. The Prioress has it now, and she intends to execute you.”

“Why?”

“Because you murdered a sister. And because you rode here on the back of a sea wyrm. And lastly,” Chassar said, “because killing you would allow her to control the rising jewel.”

“You could help me escape.”

“Eadaz was able to steal the waning jewel from Mita Yedanya, the Prioress. She will not let its twin be taken,” Chassar said heavily. “I would have to take her life first. And that, I cannot do.”

Tané waited as he sat in silence.

“I trust that you will think of something, Ambassador uq-Ispad,” she said, “or Eadaz will die.” He looked at her. “Let me go, and she may not. The choice belongs to you.”

Chassar uq-Ispad did not return. He must have chosen loyalty to the Prioress.

All was lost.

Two women came at twilight. Their cloaks were pale brocade. Tané allowed them to lead her over tiled floors, through corridors that must never have seen sunlight. In every nook and alcove, there were cast-bronze figures of a woman holding an orb.

Tané knew she needed to fight, but suddenly she felt too weak to so much as bend a blade of grass. Her captors escorted her through an archway, on to a slim ledge of rock. A waterfall formed a veil on her right. The roar was so loud, she could no longer discern her own footsteps.

At least she would hear water at the end. The thunder of the falls reminded her of Seiiki.

“Sisters.”

Tané looked up. Chassar uq-Ispad was walking toward them. This chapter is updated first at novelce‌o.com.

“The Prioress has asked that I interrogate this one again,” he called in Ersyri. “I will not be long.”

The two women exchanged glances before letting Tané go. Chassar waited until they were out of sight, then took Tané by the arm and marched her back along the ledge.