“It’s true,” said Commander Teheda. “We saw what she can do.
And the boy?—”
The woman held up a hand. She examined Ysira with open distaste. “I want her to speak for herself. Audacity such as this demands a very good explanation. I am Eneva Nal Karak, Gatekeeper of Otavok.” She gestured at the man beside her. “This is Kanan Var Mondral, who, unlike you,endured the Trial of the Gate to earn his rank. You will explain to us who you are, how you found us, and how you came to possess a demon. Or else I will force the truth from you.”
“There’s no need for that.” The armored man stood too and stepped down from the dais. “Welcome, sibling. Forgive Eneva; she failed her Trial. She’s still a bit resentful about it. And the process of bonding with a demon is always the same. You would be dead if you had not been found worthy.”
“It can’t have chosen her.” The Gatekeeper bristled. “It’s a miracle she’s not comatose, let alone standing and speaking.”
“A miracle indeed.” Kanan Var Mondral tilted his head at Ysira, the barest of smiles touching his lips. He lifted a hand, amber eyes sliding out of focus, and Iyelekirin fluttered. “Interesting. You really aren’t a telepath, are you?” He looked down at Neri. “But he is.”
Mondral’s tone grew almost somber as he asked, “What’s your name?”
Neri opened his mouth but could not seem to muster words. “Wait,” said someone else, from the shadows. “That’sNeri Semira.” “What?” Eneva said sharply.
A murmur rose from everyone gathered, and a few hands dropped to sheathed weapons. A tall, rail-thin woman stepped into the light. Ysira tensed, because she recognized her. In her decade of avoiding the Church of the Black Sun, she’d made a point of recognizing their priests—even when they wore red, rather than black.
Sister Hesaya Jinaan ran a chapel in the Knots. Ysira knew little about her besides that she’d been a classmate of Jacen’s and was a talented exorcist of unremarkable ambition. She kept to herself, drawing neither her superiors’ praise nor their ire.
Perhaps this was why.
Hesaya paced closer to them, robes rustling against the stone, and demanded of Ysira, “What were you thinking? Are you trying to bring half the knights in Zivora down on our heads? Who do you think you?—”
Neri lifted his head, letting Hesaya see his eyes. In the dim light, his irises glowed.
“It can’t be,” Hesaya whispered.
“Careful,” said Eneva. “Do not let hope deceive you.”
“With due respect, Gatekeeper.” Hesaya spoke tightly and did not look away from Neri. “I know demons. I’ve performedexorcisms under the eye of the Black Sun for twenty years, and I am not naive.” As if to herself, she added, “The voice in the desert was silent. But I had not dared . . .” She met Ysira’s gaze. “Who are you?”
Ysira spoke so all could hear. “I am Ysira Var Naktis, and my demon is called Iyelekirin.”
Eneva, at least, knew the significance of that name. Her frown deepened. Two of her veiled Disciples exchanged invisible glances, postures gone rigid. One recited something under his breath, with the reverent cadence of a prayer.
“Iyelekirin is a myth,” said Eneva. “And you’re not capable of extradimensional communion. How do you know your demon’s name?”
“Your soldiers saw proof. I cannot be killed.” Ysira lifted her chin, baring her scarred throat. “Many have tried.”
Eneva looked sharply at Teheda, and Ysira saw him nod.
“The gods of Zivora tried,” she went on, louder, before the Gatekeeper could speak. “They failed. I’ve been to their station in the sky. I’ve seen the truth of what they are.” She paused for effect. “Mortal.”
Another murmur circled the room, and the volume rose.
“We know this.” This time, Mondral spoke. The demon priest crossed his arms over his chest. “But the distinction is not a practical one when we possess no weapons that can harm them.”
But Hesaya still stared at Neri. “We might.” A note of urgency entered her voice. “Child. What is the name of your demon?”
The hall went quiet. Waiting. Like a desert storm gathering its breath. At first, Ysira did not think Neri would answer. He stood frozen, jaw clenched, as if he stood on a precipice and Hesaya had asked him to jump. But then he spoke, so quiet, Ysira strained to hear. “Naxal.”
Hesaya inhaled sharply. For a moment, she was silent, as though doubting her own senses. She repeated, loud enough for all, “Naxal.”
And then people began to shout. “It’s not possible,” said Mondral.
Hesaya rounded on him. “Look at his eyes. He’s not integrated, but they’ve already changed. This is no ordinary demon. Or are you just confounded because he’s Telu?” She snorted. “Naxal belongs to all the people of the Scar.” Tears brimmed in her lashes as she turned toward Neri once more. “The fact that it choseyou—” Emotion overcame her, such that she could not continue.
The shouting intensified. One man bellowed, “Liar!”
