Wild Magic

Chapter 28. Pyre

The Manasso acolytes came for Juvalgrim midmorning of the day after he woke in the cell. They threw an old patched cloak over him, then set him on his feet, unbuckled the straps about his legs and made him walk ahead of them.

It was time for his burning. He knew it though the only words they spoke were curt commands to get a move on, turn right, turn left.

Hurting and hungry, he didn’t know if he had the strength to walk all the way down the Jiko without falling on his face, but he set himself to the task, one foot then the other and after a while, his body took over and his mind floated free. Fear was something far off, like a stain of smoke on the horizon.

Reyna.

He smiled as he thought about Reyna. The Salagaum that Yoyote despised was a better man than both of them. Twenty years of… something. Love? Who knows. It was good, what they had; no need to put a name to it.

One of the acolytes grabbed his arm and turned him onto the ramp that led down to the Outer Ring Road, sinking fingers into one of his _,larger bruises and star-tling a sound from him, a low gulping moan that he cut off as soon as he could.

The pain went away.

The cloak fluttering about him, he walked on.

The Cheoshim towers were silent, the Parade Grounds emptied out, the windows like holes in a skull.

The Biasharim towers were desolate, with broken windows, char marks from the fires that burned to ash the dried-out women’s gardens.

The Prophet had purified the city all right. It was so pure, so sterile, nothing could live there.

Sadness drifted along beside him. He remembered what had been and mourned it. A little.

The Sok Circle was dusty and deserted. The hot wind blew scraps of paper, straw, cloth across the paving stones, plastered them against the pyres built there. One in the middle and a dozen others scattered around the rim of the Circle. Stacks of wood torn from abandoned houses and limbs from dead trees were piled neatly around the tall poles to make platforms for the prisoners to stand on.

The Salagaum were there, all of them that were left. Not many. Tied two to a pole, their feet sunk into the wood piles. Reyna was alone. In the middle. Tied to the pole that was waiting for him.

When Juvalgrim saw him, he struggled to say something, but all he could make was a breathy gurgling sound that no one could hear two steps away.

“Be quiet, you.” One of the acolytes slapped him, hit the wound on his head, and he catapulted into darkness.