Kushiel's Avatar - Jacqueline Carey [189]
"Yes!" The Mahrkagir laughed, happy and excited as a boy at his natal festivities. "Go on, Gashtaham, get on with it! I am eager for my gift."
"So be it." The priest glanced at me, his smile hidden in shadows. "You look very beautiful tonight, my lady."
"You are kind." I forced the words through frozen lips. Let him know I was afraid; it didn't matter. Everyone was afraid, in the zenana. I had lived in fear since Nineveh. I couldn't remember what it was like to be without it, except in the Mahrkagir's bed. And that was worse.
Bowing to his lord, Gashtaham walked the aisle and mounted the dais, the other Äka-Magi falling in beside him, bearing shrouded burdens in their arms. There were a dozen, all told. The sullen torchlight flickered on their polished boar's-skull helms, the black robes, the finger-bone girdles. Daeva Gashtaham raised his arms, the ebony staff in his left hand.
In the festal hall, silence fell like a hammer.
"Angra Mainyu," he said, and his voice whispered in every corner of the hall, "we stand before you to profess our faith. Of this world we are created, and in death we are reborn in your name. The works of Ahura Mazda, we abjure! His livestock, we starve and slaughter; his earth, we salt and render barren. We embrace darkness and the lie, abhorring all truths. Your three-fold path, we walk in faith: Ill thoughts, ill words, ill deeds. Let your presence among us be made manifest, and your will spread, until the hearts of all mankind seek only destruction, and brother turns upon brother, and all is laid waste."
There was power in his words, terrible power. And I, who sat next to the smiling source of it, shivered until the bangles on my wrist tinkled sweetly and I had to grip my hands together in my lap to halt it.
"Come." Gashtaham beckoned. "Let those who have made the vahmyâcam and served their apprenticeship come forth to receive their reward."
Nine men came forward, some clad in armor, some in common garb, each with a girdle of finger-bones about his waist. One by one, they knelt before the dais and unknotted their girdles, laying them before them. I saw Arshaka, the old Head Magus, weening with horror at the side of the dais. As each man approached, the Âka-Magi tended him. Two sheared his hair, letting it fall in careless handfuls. One eased a black robe over his shoulders, and another tied the finger-bone girdle about it. A fifth placed a hollowed boar's-skull helm over his shornhead, and one last bowed, handing the new Aka-Magus an ebony rod, topped with a gleaming ball of jet. When it was done, each new member took his place among their ranks.
It took some time. I scanned the hall, trying to gauge events. The men were rapt, watching the ceremony, and drinking had slowed. Was the drug taking effect? It was too early to say. "Ishta," the Mahrkagir said warmly, stroking my neck. "It will be soon!"
The dedication was finished. Daeva Gashtaham raised his arms once more, now flanked by twenty-one Ãka-Magi. "Angra Mainyu," he said. "Destructive Spirit, Lord of Darkness, Demon of Ten Thousand Years! We have quenched the fires of your ancient enemy and plunged the land in terror. With your will to guide us, we will bring more, so much more, to your altar." He raised his voice. "Let those who would make the vahmyâcam come forward with their offerings, save he who is last and greatest among us, beloved of Angra Mainyu!"
The Mahrkagir leaned back, watching; it seemed we were to go last. Seventeen men came forward at Gashtaham's announcement, each bringing a companion. They were the ones I had seen, the new faces— the parents, the siblings, the wives and children. I hadn't seen the children before. A few of the chosen went willingly, proudly. Some went in terror. Each couple mounted the dais to stand before the Âka-Magi. Gashtaham laid his hands upon their shoulders, gazing into their eyes, reading their hearts and the will of Angra Mainyu.
Three were dismissed, the sacrifice found