Seven Sorcerers(123)

“She comes forth even now,” said Eshad. He stood nearest to Sungui on the middle deck. “We will have to send her to salt.”

Gulzarr nodded on Sungui’s opposite side. “Perhaps not,” said the alchemist. “Her loyalty may have perished with Zyung.”

Darisha regarded her mate with a half-smile. “Zyung resides within us now,” she said. “All of us. If Lavanyia realizes this, it may sway her.”

Durangshara shook his round head. “She has always been stubborn. She will call us traitors and choose the salt.”

“Only a fool would make that choice,” said Eshad.

Brethren.

Sungui’s mental plea sent them silent. “I will speak to Lavanyia first. Alone.”

Without waiting for their reply, Sungui rose into the sea wind and glided toward Lavanyia, who was flying toward the Daystar with a company of twelve Lesser Ones.

“What news?” asked Lavanyia in the air. “You return too soon.”

They floated above a forest of masts and sails. Sungui motioned to the Lesser Ones.

“Dismiss them,” he said “and I will explain.”

Lavanyia’s gaze fell to the Daystar, where the cluster of New Seraphim stared up at her with an odd serenity. She waved a hand and the Lesser Ones turned in mid-flight, heading back to the nearly complete temple-palace.

“Let us walk the shore,” said Sungui. Lavanyia descended with him to the strand of pale sand girding the bay. They strolled there between water and land, armada and mountain, past and future. The salty breeze was cool against Sungui’s skin. He decided to keep his male aspect for this conversation. Lavanyia had always resented the beauty of his female form.

“Where is His Holiness?” asked Lavanyia.

“Gone,” said Sungui. Wavelets washed the shore with gentle sighs.

“Do not riddle me,” said Lavanyia. “Gone where?”

“Nowhere and everywhere,” said Sungui. He stopped, turning to face her. “Gone to salt.”

Lavanyia’s face went slack as if Sungui had slapped her. She blinked, and a strand of raven hair whipped across her face.

“There has been a coup,” said Sungui. No need to be subtle. “We have taken his salt. Shared his essence and his wisdom.”

Lavanyia looked toward the Daystar again, where the mass of silver-robes stood along the railing, awaiting the answer to a question that had not yet been asked.

“Impossible…”

“May I touch your hand?” Sungui asked.

Lavanyia hesitated, but nodded.

Sungui wrapped Lavanyia’s fingers in his own, then poured his mind’s images into hers. Lavanyia’s eyes grew round, then swollen with tears. They streamed down her smooth cheeks. Sungui showed her everything that had happened at Uurz, the battle of sorcerers, the salting, the devouring, the exodus. Yet a mere touch and a handful of visions could not instill the depth of the enlightenment that had transformed the Eaters of Zyung.

Lavanyia fell to her knees on the wet sand. Sungui released her hand.

The last of the High Seraphim glared at Sungui with red rage on her face. “You did this! It’s what you’ve wanted all along! Your hidden ceremonies, your lessons of memory! I should have salted you long ago. You are a traitor. Nothing more!”

“Then so are all of us,” said Sungui. “Save you and the three hundred who chose salt instead of revolution.”

“So this is the choice that I must make?”

“It is,” said Sungui. “But not yet.” He grabbed her shoulders and helped her to her feet. She was too weak to resist.

“I would have you walk beside us,” he said. “Beside me. Hear my words before you decide.”

Lavanyia turned away from him, her eyes scanning the rows of ships. How she must feel as the last of her kind, he could only imagine. Yet more than ever he could imagine her feelings. They poured in waves from her eyes and her skin. Sungui had never sensed another’s emotions so deeply. This was another of Iardu’s gifts, or another facet of the same gift.

His salted heart had taught them empathy.

“Speak,” said Lavanyia, her eyes on the blue-green horizon of the sea. She squinted against the sun’s brightness.

Sungui explained to her the illumination of the Eaters. The transfiguration of the Seraphim that had altered their immortal selves. The blending of Zyung’s and Iardu’s dreams. The vision of a Reborn Empire without slaves, tyranny, or conquest. The rise of a new order where free will could flourish and Men could determine their own destinies under the guidance of the New Seraphim. They would not shatter Zyung’s empire and abandon his dream. They would improve it, perfect it, replace it with a greater dream, one that served humanity far better than the old one.