Page 28 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

Ead sensed a trap. The Inysh seldom enjoyed hearing anything from a new perspective, let alone their most sacred tale. Roslain was expecting her to put a foot wrong.

“My lady,” Ead said, “it cannot be told better than it is by the Sanctarian. In any case, we will hear it tomor—”

“We will hear it now,” Sabran said. “As more wyrms stir, the story will comfort my ladies.”

The fire crackled. Looking at Sabran, Ead felt a strange tension, as if there were a thread between them. Finally, she rose to take the chair beside the hearth. The place of the storyteller.

“As you wish.” She smoothed her skirts. “Where shall I begin?”

“With the birth of the Nameless One,” Sabran said. “When the great fiend came from the Dreadmount.”

Katryen took the queen by the hand. Ead breathed in, steadying the roil within her. If she told the true story, she would doubtless face the pyre.

She would have to tell the tale she heard each day at sanctuary. The butchered tale.

Half a tale.

“There is a Womb of Fire that churns beneath this world,” she began. “Over a thousand years ago, the magma within it came suddenly together, forming a beast of unspeakable magnitude—as a sword takes shape within the forge. His milk was the fire within the Womb; his thirst for it was quenchless. He drank until even his heart was a furnace.”

Katryen shivered.

“Soon this creature, this wyrm, grew too large for the Womb. He longed to use the wings it had given him. Having torn his way upward, he broke through the peak of a mountain in Mentendon, which is called Dreadmount, and brought with him a flood of molten fire. Red lightning flashed at the summit of the mountain. Darkness fell upon the city of Gulthaga, and all who lived there died choking on pernicious smoke.

“There was a lust in this wyrm to conquer all he saw. He flew south to Lasia, where the House of Onjenyu ruled a great kingdom, and settled close to their seat in Yikala.” Ead took a sip of ale to wet her throat. “This nameless creature carried a terrible plague—a plague no humans had ever encountered. It made the very blood of the afflicted burn, driving them mad. To keep the wyrm at bay, the people of Yikala sent him sheep and oxen, but the Nameless One was never sated. He lusted after sweeter flesh—human flesh. And so, each day, the people cast their lots, and one was chosen as a sacrifice.”

All was silent in the room.

“Lasia was ruled then by Selinu, High Ruler of the House of Onjenyu. One day, his daughter, Princess Cleolind, was chosen as the sacrifice.” Ead spoke that name softly, reverently. “Though her father offered his subjects jewels and gold, and pleaded with them to choose another, they stood firm. And Cleolind went forth with dignity, for she saw that it was fair.

“On that very morning, a knight from the Isles of Inysca was riding for Yikala. At the time, these isles were riven by war and superstition, ruled by many overkings, and its people quaked in the shadow of a witch—but many good men dwelt there, sworn to the Virtues of Knighthood.Thisknight,” Ead said, “was Sir Galian Berethnet.”

The Deceiver.

That was the name he now had in many parts of Lasia, but Sabran had no idea of that.

“Sir Galian had heard of the terror that now abided in Lasia, and he wished to offer his services to Selinu. He carried a sword of extraordinary beauty; its name was Ascalon. When he was close to the outskirts of Yikala, he saw a damsel weeping in the shadow of the trees, and he asked why she was so afeared.Good knight, Cleolind answered,thou art kind of heart, but for thine own sake, leave me to my prayers, for a wyrm doth come to claim my life.”

It sickened Ead to speak of the Mother in this way, as if she were some swooning waif.

“The knight,” she pressed on, “was moved by her tears.Sweet lady, he said,I should sooner plunge my sword into my own heart than see thy blood water the earth. If thy people will give their souls to the Virtues of Knighthood, and if thou giveth me thy hand in marriage, I will drive this fell beast from these lands.This was his promise.”

Ead paused to gather her breath. And suddenly, an unexpected taste entered her mouth.

The taste of the truth.

“Cleolind told the knight to leave, insulted by his terms,” she found herself saying, “but Sir Galian would not be deterred. Determined to win glory for himself, he—”

“No,” Sabran cut in. “Cleolindagreedto his terms, and was grateful for his offer.”

“This is as I heard it in the South.” Ead raised her eyebrows, even as her heartbeat stumbled. “Lady Roslain asked me to—”

“And now your queen commands you otherwise. Tell the rest as the Sanctarian does.”

“Yes, madam.”

Sabran nodded for her to continue.

“As Sir Galian battled with the Nameless One,” Ead said, “he was gravely wounded. Nonetheless, with the greatest courage of any man living, he found the strength to thrust his sword into the monster. The Nameless One slithered away, bleeding and weak, and tunneled back into the Womb of Fire, where he remains to this day.”

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