Talios-Chapter 44: Clang

When others held funerals, it went as it should. When Ajab attended one, this had to happen—not that he would know any different. Still, if such things were part of funerals, who would ever wish to have one?

Morriba exhaled slowly as she steadied herself. Events had veered, if only slightly, into the unexpected—but their purpose remained unchanged, and everything else could be dealt with later. She turned to the King, whose steady gaze unsettled her for a brief moment. Then he nodded. Taking that as command enough, she returned his nod with a bow, rang the bells anew, swung the leaf, and resumed her deliberate, dance.

Though the incident subsided, its effects lingered briefly. Then, one by one, those strewn across the floor began to rise, slow and tentative, like young sprouts bending instinctively toward the sun.

Confusion lingered on their faces, sharpened by the ringing chimes woven into the High Priestess’s swaying movements. It was as though whatever had befallen them—whatever it was—had never occurred.

With the sealing of the Almond Box came the end of the purification rites.

The body was then laid to rest.

At that, the Dong was struck—calling forth the final rites. All present lowered themselves to their knees, their voices rising as one:

"May the Dead find Peace. May Peace accompany the Dead, till the Great Tether finds you again."

The chant echoed in harmony through the hall, the palace, the city—throughout all of Izz in ripples.

Jezreel sat atop a certain roof, eyes lifted, her gaze fixed on the source of the Dong. Even from there, she could hear the Priestesses below chanting, and she joined them, hands pressed to her chest. "May the Dead find Peace, May Peace accompany the Dead, till the Great Tether finds you again."

The long-silent city had taken the chant, filling the air as it rose to meet the night sky, for evening had already settled.

Moments later distant footsteps, paired with faint chatter, drew her attention—sending her into an inward oh-oh.

"...it’s never easy with death, is it?"

Stern and stripped of warmth, Raphai replied, "I don’t know. Don’t ask me," as she pushed the door open, revealing the room beyond.

Lunai trailed after her, her face collapsing into a pout and her movement turning sluggish.

As the door opened, Raphai found the small figure of Her Sacredness seated cross-legged on the bed, books resting nearby. She paused, eyes narrowing as she stared.

The pause lingered—until Lunai rammed into her from behind, head lowered in sluggish distraction. Raphai nearly toppled to the floor.

She spun sharply toward Lunai, eyes narrowed to murderous slits, hands spread in a silent what is your problem?

Lunai merely blinked, then sidestepped away, her face still lowered as she ignored her completely.

"You—"

Watching the culprit stroll away—choosing an entirely different path just to ignore her—Raphai felt the urge to grab and pummel her. She restrained herself, drew in deep breaths, and turned back to her Sacredness, who now seemed... somewhat different.

Raphai approached Jezreel, her eyes still narrowed.

Jezreel offered a soft smile. "Why is Nurice Raphai looking at me like that?"

Raphai’s eyes narrowed further as she stepped closer. "Was her Sacredness holding her breath just now?"

"Huh?" Jezreel blurted, mouth parting in brief shock. She hadn’t expected that question.

When Raphai entered, Her Sacredness had seemed too still—almost not breathing—which was why she had been observing, before a certain someone chose that moment to demonstrate her talent for annoyance.

"Her Sacredness seemed to have been holding her breath moments ago. Isn’t that so?"

Jezreel blinked. This was the last thing she wanted. She had indeed held her breath after rushing down from the roof—breathing too heavily would have given her away. So she had stayed still, letting herself settle. When Raphai stared at her, she feared she had been found out—until Lunai, blessedly and unknowingly, intervened. Who would have thought Raphai had noticed anyway, and now meant to press her for an answer?

At that moment, a sharp thud tore through the room, yanking their attention away and nearly making Raphai flinch.

Lunai sat on the floor in the direction of the sound—one hand clutching her head, the other rubbing her backside, face twisted in pain. She looked up at Raphai and Jezreel, eyes wet, lips pursed.

"I hit my head," she wailed, tears spilling freely.

Raphai stared at the scene. Her face tightened—briefly—then smoothed once more, unimpressed. Not enough to be a frown, not enough to be revulsion. Just a tightening, as though the display offended her sense of order rather than her stomach.

It took Raphai little effort to realize this individual had simply slammed herself into the wall, just as she had rammed into her earlier—nothing remarkable. She turned back to what mattered.

When she turned back, her Sacredness was no longer there—only her voice, coming from behind, fully committed to consoling that annoyant.

"I’m really sorry—it must have hurt," she said, gently blowing on Lunai’s forehead.

Encouraged by her Sacredness’s affection, Lunai’s wailing intensified. "Only her Sacredness really cares about me..." Tears streamed freely.

Jezreel nodded, continuing to blow cool air onto Lunai’s forehead. If this wasn’t a gift sent by the goddess herself, she didn’t know what was. She’d been wondering how to shake Nurice Raphai before providence intervened. She blew a little harder, smiling. I really do love my Lunai.

Raphai couldn’t decide what was more absurd: the annoyant, or the fact that she was making her Sacredness waste precious breath.

She strode over to the duo, gently drawing her Sacredness back by the arm—pausing only to poke that same head, sending Lunai sprawling and groaning anew.

"Don’t waste your breath," she said softly. "That one is only acting out."

"What?!" Lunai barked from the floor, groaning. "Acting out? My skull is broken here!" More tears soaked her face.

Raphai snorted. "Yeah, sure." Then she fixed her full attention on her Sacredness.

Jezreel swallowed, subtly. Was Raphai truly intent on pressing that question?

"Your Sacredness, you know you’re not meant to be doing this. Don’t you care for our heads?" Though a reprimand, it was delivered softly—yet carried its full weight. Jezreel’s face fell, apologies already forming. Where else was she meant to find another spot now?

"Why bring the books here?"

Huh... Jezreel’s face twitched before a sweet smile bloomed—realization and relief washing over her.

"You know what Priestess Gantha is like. Why insist on taking her books?"

Priestess Gantha was Dorom’s Librarian, and now wanted their heads rolling because Her Sacredness never leaves the Library the same way she enters.

"But I’m only borrowing them," she insisted, trying to justify herself.

"Your Sacredness knows that woman makes no distinction between steal and borrow where her books are concerned."

"But they’re not hers."

"She’s the Librarian. She calls the shots. Can’t your Sacredness simply not take her books out?"

"They’re not hers."

"Please."

"But I can’t read in there. She keeps meddling." 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

"Meddling? How can your Sacredness call it meddling when she just sits at her desk?"

"It’s still meddling."

Raphai slapped her forehead. As Her Sacredness’s Nurices, that Librarian saw no issue in battering them with nagging over books they hadn’t even known were taken. Was being a Nurice now a crime?

She glanced at Her Sacredness. She remained usually compliant—save for the occasional disappearance—why did this book matter have to become a thing?

"Please, Your Sacredness," she pleaded once more.

Jezreel summoned a smile. "Where’s Mother?"

Raphai’s face turned deadpan. "I’m beginning to wonder if Your Highness asks after the High Priestess each time just to evade speaking with this Nurice."

Jezreel chuckled softly, her cheeks in a blush. "It truly isn’t so. I merely hadn’t yet found the moment to ask."

Raphai regarded her in silence, expression blank. She wasn’t convinced in the slightest.

"Your Sacredness needn’t worry—the High Priestess will return before you know it," came Lunai’s voice, still half-choked with tears, from the floor where she lay clutching her forehead.

Raphai turned to her, one brow lifting as the other dipped. This nuisance was becoming persistent.

...

Walking alone through a pathway surrounded by trimmed trees and flourishing flowers, the large light stones gave the garden a bright glow, making it almost indistinguishable from day. Ajab walked with his hands clasped behind his back, the cool breeze brushing his face.

Just when he thought he had managed to slip away from everyone’s eyes and come here alone, he found Elmah—back against a tree, arms folded, as though he had been waiting.

Ajab’s brows furrowed. This time, he could see the villain clearly—which was more than could usually be said. Even the white robe did nothing to soften that clarity.

He stopped, sighed, and turned back. What was the point of sneaking out now?

In the next instant, like a thrown spear, Elmah flashed past his face. Ajab caught the gleam of daggers through his peripheral vision—then the air split.

Clang.

Blade met blade somewhere just beyond him.

Ajab’s face tightened.