Voices of Chaos Read Free Page A

will obey. Swear."
    "Yes."
    "You will do all these things," Zhenu went on flatly, "or you will find yourself home in no time at all, disgraced and exiled to your estates. If you are fortunate. Otherwise, you will serve with the guards tending Asha in the northern mines!"
    Khyriz spoke past a very dry throat. "Revered members of the Council, I shall try my best to do as you order. Though bound by blood to the Emperor, I am no one without the blessing of the nobility and my Church."
    They must surely know how frightened I am! But somehow he kept his voice level, his heart and breathing normal. The black-hooded figures surrounding him stared down in silence; finally Zhik's father spoke once more.
    "We ask only that, young Prince. Go, speak with the media, pose with the wretched merchantess. Take with you our wishes for your success."
    Liar! Khyriz thought sharply. The lean figure high above him stiffened, and he drew a deep breath. Zhenu turned away. "Go," he said dismissively.
    Khyriz faltered to his feet and somehow walked from the chamber. The door hissed closed behind him.
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    CHAPTER 1

    ***
Magdalena Perez stood very still in the middle of the Joyous Hall of the Church of the Fathers Washed in the Blood--the only room open to
    outsiders, especially New Am government officials. The room was too cool, as always: a combination of the climate, the altitude of the Church's rolling land, the fortress like thickness of the walls and roof, and the fact that fires were allowed only rarely, except for those that warmed the private chambers of the elders. Magdalena fixed her gaze on the bare, waxed floorboards just in front of her feet; despite the chill coming through thin-soled shoes, she was sweating. Perhaps if she stood very still and kept her eyes down, no one would notice her. Perhaps this once, she'd escape punishment.
    Vain hope: With one exception, every person in the hall was gazing--or glaring--at her. The Council of Elders--the four gray-bearded men who sat on hard chairs against the wall to her right--were smiling like indulgent old grandfathers because of the outsiders present, but any Church child knew the Elders were as strict with the children, especially the maidens, as Father Saul himself. Her mother, mouth set in a tight line, watched from near the door that led to the vegetable gardens, two older widowed women flanking her {because of the outsiders, of course; one of them was male). Magdalena had glanced at her mother when the women entered, but there wasn't any help there: Her mother's black eyes were grim under the gray married-women's scarf. The grannies kept their eyes humbly on the floor just before their feet, their backs to
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    the outsiders, enclosing Sister Lilith--once wealthy widow Martina Elonzo Maria Perez--between them.
    The outsiders: It was because of her that the two New Am officials had demanded to see Father Saul, Magdalena knew. They were the first non-Church people she'd seen in the seven years since her mother had joined the Church. Their faces-- male and female, young and old--revealed nothing; but the man's eyes were wide, moving constantly. He must have expected evidence of sacrificial altars or wild orgies. Father Saul told them all often enough that the outside believed that of the Church.
    At her side, Father Saul shifted from one heavy boot to the other; his feet scraped the wood loudly and the grannies jumped. He was beyond mere fury, Magdalena knew. She wanted to run from him, but she knew that would be a bad mistake.
    When he'd fetched her from the small room where she had been translating a Calvinist text for him, his face had been so white and set, she had thought at first he was sick--until she looked into his eyes: If he'd dared beat her bloody then, she realized, he'd have done it. He'd said nothing, merely hauled her out of the hard plastic chair in the ice-cold room, dragged her down the chill corridor, and, just short of Joyous Hall, had slammed her against the wall,