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  Kasimirh liked the idea that this was the moment when Jakob woke up and the world greeted Him. He was a part of it every morning. At this hour and this location, Kasimirh felt almost as close to God as during the lessons Jakob had given him.

  The wind caressed his body and tugged at the blanket that he had tied around his waist. Kasimirh bent over and picked up the bowl that Mitan had put down next to him. He raised the bowl towards the sun, which had now almost completely appeared from behind the horizon.

  “Jakob, just like every day I turn to You, and I again ask You to guide my actions.”

  He emptied the bowl over his head. The water splashed on his face and trickled down his shoulders. The cold stimulated his body. Kasimirh bowed and put down the bowl in front of him. As he rose, he took a stone from his pouch. Kasimirh studied the smoky quartz for a minute. A smile appeared on his face.

  “The world indeed is changing. Soon, the world will be back to the way You meant it to be, Lord. I am curious about the changes You have in store for me today.”

  Kasimirh remained standing at the edge of the garden for a little while longer. He stared at the rock pillars on the other side of the abyss, where the residential areas of Nadesh were situated. Even though the rock pillar where Kasimirh had set up camp was part of the capital, it had previously been uninhabited. The Merzians hadn’t paid any attention to the temple that stood there, and so it had fallen into ruin.

  Kasimirh turned around. Beyond the high trees he saw the remains of the temple. He still didn’t understand how the Merzians could have neglected this place. This was the most important spot on the planet, the place where Jakob had created the world.

  Just now, Jakob had promised him that change was coming. Kasimirh replied with a promise of his own. Soon, he was going to give the order to have the temple and surrounding gardens restored to their full glory.

  Kasimirh stowed away the praying stone, untied the blanket, and wrapped it around his shoulders. He was walking to his tent, when a bird caught his attention. Kasimirh watched it as it glided by. The falcon answered his gaze, took a dive and flew away.

  There was a loud bang. Feathers swirled to the earth. Kasimirh pulled the blanket more tightly around himself.

  The bodyguards ran to him. They formed a circle around Kasimirh, swords at the ready. Kasimirh sensed their tension as they searched for the cause of the unexpected explosion.

  Kasimirh forced his way through the soldiers and walked towards the campsite. “Have all birds in Nadesh killed,” he shouted over his shoulder at the bodyguards.

  “Why?” a young soldier hazarded to ask.

  “They could be Ferhdessar’s spies! And it’s a good exercise.”

  Kasimirh hurried across the grass to his tent. He changed into the clothes that were waiting on his bed. He caressed the silk of his stole before he draped it over his shoulders. He took a few bites of the food set out on the table. Things were going to change today, Kasimirh mused. Perhaps the prophecy meant that the Merzian priests were finally going to come to their senses and convert.

  Normally, he didn’t have much patience for priests who refused to convert, but he knew from his experience in Naftalia that it was better to spend a bit more time on them in a city. When the priests joined him, the people were much more willing to do so as well. In Naftalia, however, Kasimirh only needed to deal with one priest at a time. In Nadesh, people worshipped twelve Gods.

  No matter how badly Kasimirh wanted all twelve priests to join him, he knew that would never happen. He had taken only seven of them prisoner. Four priests were nowhere to be found – they had either fled or had been killed during an attack – and Wigg’s priest had found refuge in the fortress at the foot of the rocks. Kasimirh would especially have liked to have this representative of the God of War on his side, but for now, he was out of his reach.

  Kasimirh could convert six priests at the most. Earlier, he had killed Kyl’s priest and had displayed his body as a warning to the Merzians. The effect had been the opposite of what he had hoped: the Merzians hadn’t joined Kasimirh. Instead they had turned away from him with even more conviction. Ever since His priest’s death, the God of Disaster had showered Kasimirh with adversity. There had been riots, which had been suppressed by Zuzeca’s men with great difficulty and at the cost of numerous lives.

  Kasimirh left his tent and walked through the camp. Soldiers were sitting around small campfires everywhere, eating their breakfast. Their hair glittered in the sun; they had performed the morning rituals as well. Content, Kasimirh walked on. Why couldn’t the entire world be like this little piece of Nadesh? These men and a small number of women were abiding by the rules and were richly rewarded for it. Why couldn’t even Zuzeca’s soldiers see this? Formally, they had been converted, but Kasimirh had doubts about their intentions. When they had lived on this rock pillar, they had eaten breakfast before washing themselves. That was why he had sent them away.

  Kasimirh felt a surge of fear. What if God had higher demands for his followers than Kasimirh? Kasimirh was happy enough if people wrote their names down in the water and faithfully attended the lessons and services. But what if Jakob wanted everyone to believe in Him with all their heart and soul? In that case, his assignment was as good as impossible.

  “Don’t start having doubts,” Kasimirh whispered to himself. “Even if people are not completely convinced right now, that will change when the Golden Era begins.” He would sow the seeds, and Jakob would make them bloom when the time was right.

  He arrived at a tent situated outside the camp. The guards bowed and held the flaps open so that Kasimirh could enter.

  Kasimirh gave the six men inside the tent a look of contempt. Just like Margal’s priests that had crossed his path, they were possessed by false Gods. Kasimirh knew which priest belonged to which God. He hadn’t, however, taken the effort to remember their names, so he called them by the names of their Gods. The only name he did know was the name of Jakob’s priest; because it would be too much honour to address that man with the name of God.

  “Good morning, Semual. Have you thanked Lord Jakob for this beautiful day?”

  The man nodded.

  “Jakob has predicted changes today. It reminded me of you. I hope it means that you’ve come to your senses.”

  Semual looked at the other priests and shook his head. “The way you see Jakob is completely different from the way I see Him.”

  Kasimirh’s good mood was slipping away. “It would be wiser to convert to Jakob.”

  “I converted to Jakob many years ago. It’s not the easiest path in Merzia, but I’m grateful for the opportunities that God has given me. He taught me the right way.”

  Kasimirh dragged the priest towards him and made him kneel. The man fought against the magic, but had to give in. When Kasimirh had to let go of the magic he kicked the priest and made him fall over backwards. Semual was pulled aside by Ischa’s and Felcita’s priests. “Jakob taught me!” Kasimirh screamed. “Even though they have the same name, your God is a false God. I’m giving you the chance to follow the true faith!”

  Kasimirh hadn’t thought it possible that this priest didn’t want to convert. It was a terrible insult to Jakob, and Kasimirh would have loved to have killed Semual for it. It wasn’t as if he had much influence over the Merzians. Nevertheless, there was more merit in keeping him alive; with the small amount of priests he had captured, every convert counted.

  Another priest that Kasimirh couldn’t kill was Gaia’s priest. Not just because his Goddess was the most important of all Merzian Gods, but especially because the priest had a role to play at Yvar’s entombment. Apparently the priest was aware of this, judging from his haughty attitude whenever Kasimirh was around. “You’re wasting your time,” Gaia’s priest said. “We are bound to our Gods. Nothing you say or do will convince us to convert.”

  The other priests eagerly nodded their consent. But now Kasimirh spotted Alos’s priest. He was staring at his hands, keeping aloof.<
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  “What is it Alos? Are you starting to realize where your chances of survival lie?”

  The man cast nervous glances at the others. Alos’s priest was old and ailing. His health had deteriorated inside this tent. Kasimirh didn’t dare hope that a priest would lose his faith in the last days of his life.

  “Your stories are interesting, lord Kasimirh,” Alos said, as he sat up straight.

  Kasimirh smiled. This was the first time that he was shown some respect in this tent. Changes.

  “You can’t be serious,” Gaia’s priest yelled. He took a step in the direction of Alos’s priest.

  “Stay out of it,” Kasimirh said. He walked up to Alos and laid his hand on the priest’s head to take away some of his pain.

  “Jakob offers life to everyone,” Kasimirh whispered.

  Alos didn’t say anything. It was remarkable that he, as a Merzian, didn’t resist the healing.

  “I’ll prove it to you,” Kasimirh added as he turned around. He ordered a guard to bring the old man to another tent, so that he could be attended to.

  “Are you afraid that we’ll change his mind again?” Ischa asked as Alos was escorted out of the tent.

  “Anyone who’s ill will be treated. I won’t deny anyone care because of their religion,” Kasimirh answered.

  “Then why didn’t you help him before?” Gunnan’s priest asked.

  Kasimirh’s joy over Alos’s doubts was replaced by anger about the stubbornness of the other priests. Kasimirh opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. He stalked off. Perhaps he would be more convincing at a later point in time.

  Kasimirh walked back to his own tent. On his way, he encountered a soldier. The man bowed. He was holding two dead birds. A shot sounded in the distance. Kasimirh stopped for a moment, leaning on his staff. A wave of nausea passed through his body. He dismissed the soldier and took time to catch his breath before he continued on his way.

  8

  The days in the camp were filled with a never-ending rhythm of work and study. At night, Ghalatea listened to the sounds of the fighting in the city. She had given up on her plan to escape and join the resistance, because she was afraid she would fall into Zuzeca’s hands sooner or later. Kasimirh wouldn’t save her a second time.

  As soon as Ghalatea fell asleep, she was raped again and again by Zuzeca in her dreams. It was a huge relief when Dinak woke her up every morning, because then she realized that she was no longer part of the pontifex’s family.

  Ghalatea was now one of the washerwomen. Because of Jakob’s hygiene rules, there was more than enough work on a daily basis. It was heavy labour. First, the washing had to be rubbed on the washboard, then she had to wring out the washing by hand, and after that she hung it out to dry. The work had been very different before. There had been washing machines and automatic wringers at the palace that took over the physically challenging work. The only thing that the maidservants had done was hang, iron and fold the washing.

  Ghalatea looked at the woman who was wringing out towels with her. The Ancilla Princeps knew her from the market that she had frequented weekly. She was sure that the woman had a husband and two children. In the camp, however, only her youngest son was with her.

  “The weather is nice, don’t you think?” the woman asked.

  Ghalatea nodded. She glanced around and opened her mouth to ask the woman about her husband and daughter. But right at that moment Dinak drew aside one of the towels hanging on the line. Ghalatea swallowed her words. She already knew what the woman was likely to say; she was grateful to Jakob for her new life. That was the answer that everyone used for difficult questions. Jakob had wanted it this way, so it was good. Ghalatea would give the same answer if anyone asked her about Rogan, even though she longed to be able to talk to someone about him.

  Dinak took the towel that Ghalatea had wrung out and hung it on the line. Ghalatea glanced at the other woman. She smiled at Ghalatea. She seemed truly happy. They worked on in silence.

  When Ghalatea had wrung out the last towel, she picked it up and walked to the end of the line. She stood on tiptoe to hang up the towel, and was able to look down and see a small part of the fortress. That was where Rogan was. Tears welled up in her eyes. She missed him terribly.

  She was startled by Dinak who put a hand on her shoulder. Ghalatea quickly wiped away her tears.

  “Is it so awful for you to be here?” Dinak asked with amazement.

  Ghalatea shook her head. She sighed. “It’s about what happened before.”

  Dinak smiled at her. “The past is gone. Jakob has given you a new life. I think you have every reason to be grateful to Him.”

  She turned around. Ghalatea cast a last look at the wall. Dinak was wrong. Jakob had taken everything from her. The Ancilla Princeps wanted to pray, but she wasn’t sure which of the Gods could help her.

  “Are you coming?” Dinak called to her.

  Ghalatea joined her. She looked at Dinak as she followed her across the park. The woman was so far away from home, and yet seemed so happy. The Ancilla Princeps wondered how Dinak had become involved with the religion. The chances were that Lilith had attacked her hometown and that Dinak had joined the prophet out of fear. What had she left behind? Did she ever think about her old life?

  Ghalatea touched the lavender bushes, releasing their scent. Maybe she should follow Dinak’s example and look to the future instead of the past. Ghalatea longed to wipe out the memory of what Zuzeca had done to her. She was afraid that her husband wouldn’t want anything to do with her any more once he found out what had happened. And then what would remain of her old life?

  She broke off a twig of lavender and inhaled the smell. “Jakob, can You help me forget?” she whispered.

  Dinak looked at her over her shoulder and smiled.

  A group of converts was sitting in a tent. They were learning to read and write. In another tent, Jakob’s book was dictated to the Merzians who were literate. Ghalatea was part of the group that had to copy the books.

  The teacher’s voice drifted outside. He pronounced each word with care. “Forced by the people’s betrayal, Jakob created hell.”

  Ghalatea didn’t hang around to listen. She had copied the same chapter that morning. The first days, she had been taught about Jakob’s glory. After that, heaven had been described in lyrical phrases. Today, the teacher had drilled the description of hell into them. He had read out the text twice and had subsequently dictated it. Finally, the students had jointly read aloud what they had written down.

  The lesson had made a deep impression on Ghalatea. Hell also existed in the religion of the twelve Gods, but there were no elaborate descriptions of how it looked. The Jakobinians compared hell to a desert. Ghalatea had grown up in such an environment and knew that there was life underneath every single stone. Survival was hard, but not impossible. She had quickly grasped that hell was nothing like the desert she used to know. She heard her teacher’s voice in her head. She could almost quote the text word for word.

  Hell is an arid and savage place. There are no plants or animals. Only people who have sinned live there. The sun burns their naked bodies for eternity. The sand grows so hot that they burn their feet with every step they take. Optimistic people will vainly search for water. Others will soon give up and surrender to the pain.

  Ghalatea shook off the memory of the lesson. Even though she had been converted, and therefore needn’t worry about life or death, according to Dinak, the thought of hell sent shivers down her spine. Jakob wouldn’t be fooled that easily. Ghalatea still silently prayed to the Merzian Gods, but They wouldn’t appreciate her not performing the rituals. Whichever Gods were the true ones, she had doubtlessly displeased them.

  “Ghalatea, will you walk with me?” Dinak asked.

  The other woman said goodbye to them. Dinak brought Ghalatea to their tent. She motioned for Ghalatea to sit down and produced a bottle from her bag.

  “Here. This will help you forget.”
r />   Ghalatea stared at the bottle in her hands. Then she looked at Dinak.

  “You don’t have to use it right away. You can also take it before you go to sleep, to ward off the nightmares.” Dinak smiled. “There’s enough. If you need more, I’ll get it for you.”

  Ghalatea unscrewed the cap and smelled the contents of the bottle. Various herbs had been added to the potion to mask the penetrating smell of the extract of the opium poppy. She was reluctant, because she knew what herb mixtures could do. Nevertheless, she ached for sleep.

  The Ancilla Princeps closed her eyes and took a sip. She immediately felt drowsy. She collapsed against Dinak and felt how the woman tucked her in before she sank into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  9

  The sledge stopped so suddenly that Lilith barely managed to remain standing. She opened her eyes. A disappointed sigh escaped her lips.

  “That never-ending plain is doing my head in. All the blue and white is starting to annoy me,” she muttered.

  She jumped off the sledge and stretched her legs. Then she walked to the dog at the front of the team.

  “Do you need to take a rest?” She petted Imiq’s head. “Or is it time to sleep?” At night, it didn’t get dark any more, so Lilith had lost all sense of time.

  The dog was pushing its head against Lilith’s chest. It annoyed Lilith. “You know that I don’t keep any food there, don’t you?”

  Almor was watching her from a little distance. “It hasn’t been all that long since we last took a break. I think you’ve reached your destination.”

  Lilith looked around. “There’s nothing here.”

  Almor shrugged.

  “Well, I could always give it a try.”

  Her dogs barked excitedly as Lilith got out the flute. She ran her fingers along the object and licked her cracked lips. At the same time she looked at Seraph. He was sitting tied up on the sledge.