The Eminence in GOT-Chapter 41: Rebirth

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***

284 A.D.

Main Temple of Grace, Meereen, lands of Giskar.

«Can you help her? - I asked, pointing to Rainice lying on the portable crib.

«We need to let the Azure and Golden Graces see her. They are the only ones who know the secrets of healing and magic. It will take a little time, but we need to take her to the temple chambers. - A young woman dressed in pink robes answered. - But it will cost you dearly, Felix.

«Do what you need to do. - I nodded toward the three blue-clad priestesses who lifted the small and thin body, which had been held alive only by expensive fox alchemy. - You know that money has never been a problem for me, Galazza.

«What's true is true. Money has never been scarce for the Bastard of Fortune. - Galazza Galar, my longtime friend and former lover since her trading career, smiled cheerfully.

When it became clear that no medication or healer was helping Reinis, it was obvious to me that there was only one way out: magic. An ancient and mysterious force that existed on Planetos, of which I knew only from the ancient books I had read at the Citadel and ancient monuments like the Wall, the Loratian Labyrinths, the Guardians of Omber, and the sunken Valyria. But now it was the only chance for the girl's recovery.

Meereen had not been chosen by chance. Years ago, after a stormy night, Galazza had told me of the structures of the Giscarian Temples of Grace. The priestesses serving in the Temples of Grace were recruited only from among innocent girls belonging to noble families. The service of priestesses was considered honorable, and their status was so high that it allowed them to occupy the best places in the Battle Pits. The position of the priestess in the cult hierarchy and the range of her duties was indicated by the color of her clothing. Green Blagodati are the high priestesses in charge of the temple. Azure Blagodati - priestesses engaged in healing of free worshippers. White Blessings were girls from noble families who had not reached the age to engage in temple prostitution, serving as laborers and assistants to their older colleagues. The Red Blessings were priestesses with a year's obedience as temple prostitutes, which Galazza was when we first met. Those in charge of politics and negotiations between noble houses and slave towns were the Pink Graces. The Purple Graces were the Silent Sisters, dealing with funerals and burials of the deceased, the most private and quiet group of all the priestesses.

But I was interested in the last, most mysterious and smallest caste among the Graces - the Golden Caste. According to Galazza, they were the only ones who had preserved the secrets of magic and otherworldly rituals that allowed them to heal the worst wounds. But the price was high.

«Welcome to our chambers, Mr. Felix. - Said the Golden Grace who appeared in front of me a few minutes later. She was no different from the other priestesses - dressed in a closed chiton, the color of molten gold, with well-groomed nails and hair, a middle-aged woman a head and a half below me. With frightening yellow eyes. - 'My name is Naliz So Razlar, the youngest grace of this Temple.

"So that's why the gold ones..." - A thought flashed through my mind as my body reflexively made a welcoming bow. - It's a pleasure, Ms. Naliz. I don't mean to be indelicate, but what about the girl?

«What about you, what about you. - The lady smiled, raising her hands in a conciliatory manner. - I understand. It's nice to see when a father cares for his daughter.

"She's not my daughter," I thought tiredly, wincing slightly. This woman's behavior was stressing me out. It was too human and simple for someone who usually looked down on others. - So you can help her?

«Yes." The priestess continued to smile. - There is a ritual in the temple that can help you. You are very lucky that the girl has not crossed the threshold of three years, otherwiseھتياڇومٽياڇوجيرسم۽عطاٿيلرتجو would not have worked.

«The ritual of white ashes and donated blood? - I surprised the priestess greatly with my knowledge of ancient Giskar. Still, over the years my hyperactivity has not gone anywhere and along with training, managing the feud and raising children, went reading books, learning new languages hundreds of other hobbies. - Not a very encouraging title. What are the odds of success?

«Almost perfect. - Put a smile back on my face with grace. - This ritual has been used since the time of Ancient Guis to treat the sick and doomed children of lords, giving them a second chance at life. And there was never a time when the ritual didn't work.

«But there is always a residue in a glass of wine. - I continued, noticing how the corners of the woman's lips quivered. - Surely the ritual has a few side effects that have prevented the Golden Graces from becoming the most famous healers in all of Essos. And what are those effects?

The priestess immediately grimaced as if she'd eaten a lemon in one go. Then I've hit the bull's-eye.

«You're right, Mr. Felix. During the ritual there is a complete renewal of the body, because of which all the old personality is erased, leaving only impersonal memories. - Reluctantly, Grace squeezed herself out. She looked humble and sad, as if she thought I had already given up and left. - The ritual had originally belonged to the Milk People, the ancestors of the founders of Qarth, and those who passed through it were given alabaster white skin.

It got me thinking. A lot. On the one hand, after the ritual, I'll have a girl with no memories of her family or parents, with looks that even a fool wouldn't recognize as a Targaryen princess. Doran included. Even a detailed account of what happened won't help - Westeros is home to some remarkably hard-headed people who won't believe anything until they see it in person. Many people in southern Westeros do not believe in the existence of the Wall, believing it to be the ravings of wild northerners and a low fence separating one wasteland from another. Or the dragons of Valyria. I've seen several northern lords stare disbelievingly at dragon skulls during the capture of Red Castle, saying they thought of them as the ravings of gentle southerners who invented "fire-breathing flying lizards while drunk."

So if I showed Doran the renewed Reynis, not only would they not believe me, because the most striking feature of the princess - bronze skin, is missing, as well as the memories of life in the Red Castle, but they would also take me for a madman. And of the people who knew the princess well, only my sister is alive, and they won't trust her. Even if Martell believes he has his niece in front of him, the girl's fate will be a sad one.

Doran is a politician first and foremost. A cautious and cunning politician, as good as Tywin Lannister. And how he would handle a political figure like the Targaryen princess.....

Of course, I could turn to other mages for help, from the famous Quartia Immortals to the Maeght Conclave sitting in Vaes Dothrak. I even have a few old connections to sorcerers in I-Ti.

But Rainis wouldn't stand for it.

For two months, while my fastest ship raced to the Slaver's Bay, she was kept alive by alchemists hired in Lys, through a tube of some strange infusion. Even so, the girl had grown skinny over time, looking like a Holocaust victim - thin arms and legs, skin stretched over her ribs, sunken cheeks. According to the alchemists and healers, she had two weeks to live.

So I had only two options: agree and get a girl with no personal memories, or risk taking her to Vaes Dothrak, which would take two weeks on horseback.

But just as I was about to open my mouth to say no, I remembered what the whole affair had been about.

«All right. - I answered, making the priestess in front of me wince. She was already in the mood for rejection and was silently waiting for it. - How much do I have to pay for the ritual?

«With all the preparations and expenses, it will cost you six thousand gold oner.

"One and a half thousand gold dragons. That's two battle dromons of Volantian rigging. Not bad," I thought in surprise, realizing another reason for the non-proliferation of this ritual - not every rich man would be willing to pay that much for one child.

«There are twenty mitzars of precious stones here. - I placed a pouch of sapphires, the most prized gems in the Bay of Traders, worth two thousand dragons, in the hands of the surprised grace. - In return, I would like to observe the ritual myself.

«No, no, no, no..." The bewildered priestess began to object.

«Personally. - I pressed her with my presence, making her stagger and nod her head uncertainly. I was still a strong and dangerous warrior, capable of breaking a miniature woman's neck with my bare hands.

«The preparations will take three days. Come here at sunset, at the hour of the scorpion. - Grace said, still stammering, hiding the pouch in the folds of her chiton. - Don't worry about the girl. We'll take care of her. All the best to you.

And without saying goodbye, she rushed into the depths of the temple, leaving Galatza and me alone in confusion.

That same evening, during a modest dinner on the balcony of the Galar pyramid, Galazza told me some details about the Golden Graces.

Firstly as a priestess caste they were the fewest and poorest, living in the farthest reaches of the Temple of Grace. The reason for this was simple - very few working rituals had survived from the time of Ancient Guis, and they could be counted on the fingers of two hands. All of them were healing oriented and were not much appreciated by the Great Lords, who saw magic as something more than simple healing of wounds.

And the rituals themselves had a huge number of restrictions that prevented them from being used all the time. The same ritual of white ashes and donated blood that would be used on Reynice was only applicable to girls under the age of three and required expensive ingredients, so it was only used once every ten years at most. The same was true for the rest of Giskar's magic.

Secondly, I learned why that Golden Grace was acting so strangely. In Westeros and Essos, even the deaf have heard of the arrogance and pompousness of wizards who look at ordinary people as trash or material for experimentation. It didn't work that way with this group of priestesses. Naliz So Razlar and the rest of the Golden Grace were taken from their homes as young as two years old and raised in the temple, in an atmosphere of kindness and purity. After all, all healing practices required integrity and a sincere desire to help, which many Giscarians, who had raped and tortured slaves since childhood, did not have.

So most of the time, the Golden Graces tended and replenished the temple library, occasionally performing rituals on wealthy members.

When asked how Galazza knew all this, she only laughed and said that she, as a member of one of the great families, was a candidate to be the next Green Grace. She had a lot to know.

***

I spent the next three days in constant hustle and bustle, traveling from pyramid to pyramid, negotiating with the Great Lords for supplies of liquor, porcelain, glass, paper, expensive woods, and other rare curiosities that I could obtain and buy in Westeros in exchange for the cloth, olives, oils, spices, and silks that the Dothraki supplied from the plundered caravans. The bargaining was easy and didn't require much effort on my part - after all, the Meereenese got most of their income from slaves, who only needed to be fed on time, and didn't value their gold much.

So the money poured into my pocket, making me smile reflexively at my luck. Many people were willing to pay half their weight in pure gold for just a Giskarsok-style porcelain set. Whether it was the Free Cities or the slaves that the Giskarskians ate their dog on training and selling, it was much more complicated. Of course, I had to make a small discount to Galaram, but it was necessary - without Galazza's help I would not have been able to meet with the Golden Graces and agree on the ritual.

I spent my nights sleeplessly pondering and questioning my involvement in the Baratheon rebellion.

Why had I taken such a risk, costing me men, a deep wound, and my mental health?

Fame... No, it doesn't matter to me. I'm not a hero of Ancient Greece, ready to break into a lump for the sake of my memory. No land, either. The Valley of the Solar Flame was enough for me and a new domain would be more of a pain in the ass than anything useful. Ranks and titles... Definitely not. I've never suffered from vanity, and the title "Great Champion of Light" wouldn't even make me scratch my head, and titles under the king are a direct participation in the famous Game of Thrones, where you'll be eaten without being noticed. No, definitely not.

The answer was simple: I'd started this whole thing for Elia and Oberyn. Because as strange as it sounds, I loved the Princess of Dorne. Not as a girl, but as a person. A smart and versatile person with whom I could sit quietly on the gazebo of the Sunspear, talk about books and speculate about the world and the wonders in it. She was a bright and pleasant ray, illuminating and giving warmth to everyone around her. It was felt even through correspondence, which we continued even after her marriage.

And now she's gone.

I've lost loved ones before, and I'm able to cope with my emotions and move on with my life. But Martella is gone. Oberyn, Doran, and Leawen, stripped of his white cloak immediately after Robert's coronation, will have their revenge. A terrible revenge, dragging the whole clan into a pool of bloody hatred.

All because I made a mistake.

Did I do the right thing?

No. Elia would still be alive.

Could I have changed anything?

Also no. I couldn't have predicted Tywin Lannister's actions. There were too many players in King's Landing to predict their actions.

I was already walking the edge of the abyss. If I'd left more men with Robin, Varys would have seen them. If I had controlled the mercenaries worse, or if Martell had been more attentive to his troops, not spending most of his time with Rhaegar or the King, the true colors of the troops would have been revealed sooner. If I had stayed in King's Landing myself, there's no telling how negotiations with the rebels would have gone and whether they would have been able to stop Tarly and capture Prince Leven without bloodshed.

Even if I had chosen to help the Targaryens, hiring the Golden Swords or the Rosa's Men in addition to the Martell army and defeating the rebels, Elia would have died anyway - when they were tidying up her body in the Sunspear in preparation for burial in the family crypt, they discovered she was two months pregnant. As Thea later told Thea, Rhaegar visited her only once, and afterward all the maids of honor and guards were forbidden, under threat of death, to give her moon tea.

If you remember that he knew full well that she and her child could not bear another pregnancy, it was a subtle way of killing, and one for which no one could say a word to the prince. Fucking asshole.

So the only thing left for me to do was to take care of Rainice. Even if I had to.

***

284 A.D.

Main Temple of Grace, Meereen, lands of Giskar.

3 days later...

At the hour of the scorpion, or seven o'clock in the evening, I was already at the entrance to the Temple of Grace. One of the golden priestesses, though younger than Nalize, was already waiting for me there and took me deep into the temple.

The Temple itself was a gigantic complex of buildings spread out to the north of Meereen. You could walk through it for a long time, looking at the statues of the ancient gods of Gisa, whose names have long since been forgotten, and the pleasure gardens that were open even after sunset, where the chitons of azure, red, and pink graces entertained rich guests under the light of lamps. But the young golden grace led me through some secret and inconspicuous passages that allowed me to pass almost directly to a small and down-to-earth pyramid - the main temple library and residence of the Golden Graces.

Naturally, I was not allowed to visit the library located on the upper floors, but without stopping I was taken to the basement, where I was led to some niche and shown a small slit.

At once it became clear where I was. It was a secret room, from where through narrow and imperceptible gaps in the stones it was possible to observe the ritual hall.

"Interesting. It's like a movie stamp," I thought in surprise as I watched a fairly standard ritual room. In the very center was a large stone bed, playing the role of an altar, on which lay Reinis, dressed in a light white dress. Even from here it was obvious that she had grown even more emaciated and pale over the past three days, looking like a corpse.

Around the altar itself, on the stone floor made of composite blocks, there were lines of circles-removals, girdling the center of the hall and connected by small grooves, forming a strange and attractive pattern. The composition was completed by torches burning on the walls and priestesses standing around the bed, holding closed clay jars in their hands.

«It begins. - Quietly said the girl still standing near me and as if in her tone the fire flared brightly for a moment.

«ہمکہتےہیںکرنےکےلئےدیوتاوںکیتار...

At first it was only a whisper, audible only by the edge of consciousness and seemingly an illusion.

«یکیاورافراتفریکرنےکےلئے،تاریکروحوںکہ...

But gradually it grew louder, more powerful and stronger, drumming in my head. The priestesses sang it in complete synchrony, gradually increasing the volume, making it seem as if the words were coming out of the throat of a deity. Or a demon.

«رہنےکیگہرائیوںمیںرات. قبولقربانیدھولاوررضاکارانہ....

«The language of the Silver Sea... - I whispered in shock, surprising the priestess standing next to me. Still, very little is known about the Fisher Queens, the legendary dynasty that ruled the lands around the Silver Sea, one of the first civilizations in Essos. According to the legends, the Fisher Queens were noted for their wisdom, virtue, knowledge of magic, and were favored by the gods, which is why chiefs, kings, and sages alike would come to the floating palace to seek their counsel. It was they who became the progenitors of the magical art, spreading it to Sarnor, Valyria, Gys and Ifkevon. I was able to recognize it only because of the word "cognized", whose transcription I saw in one of the treatises I bought in Omber.

-طورپردیئےگئےخونکومندملکرنےکےلئےاسکےبچےجو...

At some point the Blagodati moved for the first time. As if in slow motion, three of them raised their hands and opened the jugs.

-ابھیتکمعلومنہیںہےاورگناہکےنائب. اسخونکیتجدیدکی...

From the vessels, defying all laws of gravity, blood began to slowly flow out, filling the circles on the floor, forming a frightening maroon pattern.

-جائے،اسکےجسمپنپنے،اوراسکیہڈیوںکیوصولی...

At some point, a faint ruby haze began to drip from the blood, gradually filling the hall and gradually soaking into the lying Reynice, whose skin, hair and dress had turned completely red, as if the girl had been dipped in a vat of paint.

I was about to ask the question "What the hell is going on here?" but I ran into the gaze of glowing golden eyes that said it was meant to be.

«دھولکےلئے،دھول. گوشتکوگوشت. خونکوخون...

Once the blood was completely absorbed into the girl, the remaining three jars were opened, from where small whirlwinds of pale gray powder spurted out that turned out to be the same white ashes.

"And before that, there was the gift of blood," I thought, feeling the tang of iron in my mouth. Still, watching the magical ritual made me involuntarily tense and nervous, causing blood to accumulate in my stomach.

«دیوتاوںکےدوراورتاریکیاسبچےکوشفادےکیطرف...

The ashes behaved the same way as the blood before - they rushed to Reynice, starting to be absorbed through her skin, under the unbearably loud voice of Grace. But even so the result was already visible - the girl's body no longer looked like a victim of a month-long hunger strike and returned to the state when I first saw her.

-سےاسکیجلد،روشنیکودیکھنےکےایکبارسےزیادہ.

The ritual ended the moment the last speck of dust settled on Reinis. In an instant, the priestesses' voices, which were as loud as the roar of an airplane, fell silent, and the Blagodati themselves fell to the floor as trimmed dolls.

Almost immediately, the inconspicuous doors opened and more girls dressed in blue and gold chitons ran into the hall, beginning to nurse the pale and exhausted priestesses, who could not even lift a hand.

But I was not interested in that.

All my attention was fixed on the girl lying on the stone bed, still asleep and not opening her eyes.

«Let's go. - The grace standing next to me called out to me. - It is better that the first people the child sees after waking up are the parents. Let's hurry. She'll wake up soon.

"Parents, yes..." - I thought bitterly as I followed the priestess and inwardly made my final decision.

Soon I was standing over the quietly sleeping girl, whose white skin did remind me of the people of Qarth, but whose facial features had not changed, remaining the same. Soon Reynice began to wrinkle her brow, and her hands roamed the red dress and reached for her eyes to rub them. Finally she was fully awake.

"They didn't talk about this one." - I wondered, looking into the bright yellow eyes that had been honey-colored before. - "Must be one of the minor effects of the ritual."

«Where am I?" the girl asked fearfully, looking around quickly. - What is this place? Where are mommy and daddy?

Finally her gaze came across mine, and she, apparently realizing that she didn't remember anything, became even more frightened and asked:

«'Who am I?

"Well, this is it Felix," I thought tiredly, pulling a smile onto my face. - "There's no going back. Let's give Elia a gift in heaven by giving her daughter a beautiful and full of happiness life"

«How are you feeling, daughter? - Concerned, I asked, taking her in my arms.

The shock of waking up in an unknown place, the lack of memories and the man who called her daughter had finally exhausted the girl, causing her to burst into a veritable waterfall of tears.

I spent the next day creating the legend and retelling it to Reynice, now also my bastard daughter by a Quartian. According to it, she and her mother had contracted some unknown disease in Quarth. The mother died before she could send me a letter asking me to heal and shelter her daughter, which I did. Yes, the story was raw and full of white holes, but it was enough for a naive child devoid of personal memories.

And a few days later, having completed my business in the city and leaving a few people to refine and finalize my "legend", my ship sailed to Osgiliath to my wife and children who were waiting for me.

***

What Felix didn't know was the nature of the ritual performed on the girl. The ritual of white ashes and donated blood was one of the darkest in the arsenal of the Golden Graces. For it, specially trained people forced young slave girls, born on the same day as the girl to be healed, to voluntarily give their lives by threats, torture and blackmail. Their blood was drained and their bones crushed to dust, while prayers were recited over them to dark spirits and deities so ancient that even their names were consigned to oblivion.

And as with any dark magic she left her mark on anyone she touched. Normally it wouldn't have affected anything, but the girl possessed a bloodline.

A very strong and special bloodline.

***

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