Part 50 (1/2)
Kellhus simply ... watched.
”You're a Mandate Schoolman,” Nautzera grated with admirable menace. ”A Mandate Schoolman Mandate Schoolman!”
”Esmi,” Achamian said, his eyes and outstretched hand directed only at her. ”Please ...”
This was the only thing that could mean mean anymore. anymore.
”Akka,” she sobbed. She glanced about, seemed to wilt beneath the rapt gazes that encircled them. ”I'm the mother of ... of ...”
So the hollow could not be shut. Achamian nodded, wiped the last tear he knew he would ever shed. He would be heartless now. A perfect man.
She approached him-with longing, yes, but with wariness and horror as well. She clutched the hand he had held out, the one that did not lean against his staff. ”The world, world, Akka. Don't you see? The very world hangs in the balance!” Akka. Don't you see? The very world hangs in the balance!”
What will it be the next time I die?
With a savagery that both thrilled and frightened him, he s.n.a.t.c.hed her left wrist, twisted and bent it back, so that she could see the blurred tattoo that blackened the back of her hand. He thrust her away from him.
The crowd erupted in outrage. But strangely, no one moved to seize him.
”No!” Esmenet shrieked from the floor. ”Leave him alone! Leave him! You don't know him! You don't kn-”
”I renounce!” Achamian roared, sweeping his scathing gaze across all a.s.sembled. ”I renounce my station as Holy Tutor, as Vizier to the court of the Anasurimbor Kellhus!” He glanced at Nautzera, not caring whether the old man sneered or no. Achamian roared, sweeping his scathing gaze across all a.s.sembled. ”I renounce my station as Holy Tutor, as Vizier to the court of the Anasurimbor Kellhus!” He glanced at Nautzera, not caring whether the old man sneered or no.
”I renounce my School!” he continued. ”As an a.s.sembly of hypocrites and murderers.” he continued. ”As an a.s.sembly of hypocrites and murderers.”
”Then you sentence yourself to death!” Nautzera cried. ”There's no sorcery outside the Schools! There are no-”
”I renounce my Prophet!”
Gasps and sputters filled the galleries of the First Temple. He waited for the uproar to subside, staring for what seemed an unblinking eternity at the otherworldly aspect of Anasurimbor Kellhus. His last student.
Nothing pa.s.sed between them.
Somehow his gaze found Proyas, who looked so ... aged aged with his beard squared. There was prayer in his handsome brown eyes, the promise of return. But it was far too late. with his beard squared. There was prayer in his handsome brown eyes, the promise of return. But it was far too late.
”And I renounce ...” He trailed, warred with errant pa.s.sions. ”I renounce my wife wife.”
His eyes fell upon Esmenet, stricken upon the floor. My wife! My wife!
”Noooo,” she wept and whispered. she wept and whispered. ”Pleeaaase, Akka ...” ”Pleeaaase, Akka ...”
”As an adulteress,” he continued, his voice cracking, ”anda...a...”
His face a mask of nimil, he turned without leave, began walking back the way he came. The Men of the Tusk stared at him dumbstruck, their outrage as bright as sparks in their eyes. But they fell away before his approach. They fell away.
Then, through the sound of Esmenet weeping ...
”Achamian!”
Kellhus. Achamian did not condescend to turn, but he did pause. It seemed the future itself leaned inscrutable against him, a yoke about his neck, a spear point against his spine ...
”The next time you come before me,” the Aspect-Emperor said, his voice cavernous, ringing with inhuman resonance, ”you will kneel, Drusas Achamian.”
Retracing his b.l.o.o.d.y footprints, the Wizard limped on.