Page 19 of The Half King
Cerise tried to come up with a counterargument, but she couldn’t. Memorizing the scrolls hadn’t prepared her to debate a firstborn Calatris. Discussing theology with Daerick was akin to arguing with a library that had come to life.
Daerick pointed above the rooftops to the nearby temple. Alongside the temple spire stood a statue of Shiera, her marble arms and shoulders thick with muscle, a spear in her mighty hand. “Look at her,” Daerick said. “What makes you think that a goddess as fierce and as powerful as Shiera—a woman strong enough to craft this world and perhaps others, to give life and to take it away—would allow her sex to be dominated by men?”
Cerise could only repeat what the Order had told her since birth. “It is not our place to question the will of Shiera.”
“Says who?”
“The…priests.”
“Well, how convenient for the priests,” Daerick said. “To do whatever they please in the name of the goddess and then forbid anyone from questioning them. That kind of unrestricted control would almost make them gods themselves, wouldn’t you say?”
A flicker of anger rose in her chest. “That’s sacrilege.”
“Says who?”
“The scrolls.”
“They were written by mortals.”
“Mortals inspired by the goddess.”
“Says who?” Daerick repeated. “What proof did the Order give you?”
“I don’t need proof,” she told him. “I have faith.”
Daerick smiled sadly at her. “And that’s why the Order will win.”
“Win?” she asked. “Win against what? You make it sound like we’re at war.”
“Let me show you something,” he said, and they began walking again.
They strode across two more streets, passed the city temple, and continued to an open-air vegetable market where the homes and shops were smaller and beginning to crumble at the edges. The farther they ventured from the palace, the fewer merchants peddled exotic wares. Soon the vendors disappeared altogether. There were no braids or colorful sashes in this part of town. Most of the children were barely wearing clothes.
They stopped at the fringes of a packed-dirt courtyard, where two priests were administering to a group of plain folk. Magical advancements were reserved for royalty and the Order, but priests helped the plain folk in other ways, using their gifts to mend plows, enrich the soil, and cast enchantments of honesty to settle disputes.
Daerick took her by the hand and guided her to a shaded alleyway situated behind the priests. He stopped and indicated for her to listen.
At first, she heard nothing beyond the ordinary. One man wanted his mule made fertile. Another man begged to have his broken loom restored. Both requests were granted. Then a trio of men approached the priests and bowed their heads.
“May Shiera’s light shine upon you,” one priest said.
“And may her wrathful eye look away,” came the joint reply. The group spokesman stood tall and stated his request. “Please, fathers, we beg you. Use your magic to bring back the rains. Our honey fruit orchard is dying. You gave us rain for many years, and now—”
“You know I cannot,” the priest interrupted. “The king has forbidden it.”
Angry murmurs broke out among the crowd.
“But why?” demanded the man. “All of the magic in the realm is at his disposal.”
“It is not our place to question His Majesty,” the priest said. “Only to carry out his will.”
This response drew an even more turbulent reaction from the plain folk, who shoutedIt’s not right!andDown with the Half King!Just when Cerise began to worry that the crowd might lash out at the priests, she tasted the coppery tang of magic and felt a sense of calm wash over her. The first priest shouted, “Return to your homes,” and then he staggered weakly against his partner, exhausted from using his energy to calm the crowd.
Within moments, all of the plain folk dispersed.
The enchantment drained away as soon as the priests left. Cerise looked to Daerick for an explanation. “Why would the king inflict a drought upon his own people?” she asked. “There are already so many blighted crops here.”
Daerick responded with a question of his own. “Have you ever tried one of Mortara’s native fruits, like sand melon?”
