[11] Qila: Most Important Task

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Up on the rooftop, before anyone else dared join her, Qila sat and bathed in the crimson sunrise. From up so high, it seemed she could see the whole world. Snow-packed mountains reached up into the sky, though none reached past Styzia's peak. Below them was a valley carved by two rivers, and between those two rivers was the world's largest known human community, though it looked like an anthill from her vantage point.

As far as her eyes could see, there was ice. There was cold. No ordinary winter, but an unbreakable vice. As much as she tried to see the beauty that remained, Qila couldn't help but tense up as she remembered what the world used to be like, back when the Iron God was still with them. She remembered a time when she could have walked out with no heavy coat or boots, sunk her toes into soft green grass, taken a breath without her nostrils cracking.

"You look defeated, Qila." Xigon's voice was as calm and cold as the scenery below. "Is something wrong?"

The old woman's shoulders tensed. She stood up and turned to face him. Her gray hair whipped back in the wind. "Good morning." Her greeting came out stiff and forced. "Nothing's wrong. Well, no more wrong than it always is. This is a miserable world we're watching over."

"Yes, but it's the only one we have." Xigon stepped closer to her. His crutches punched holes in the snow that covered the roof. "We are the Iron God's hand, aren't we?"

Qila turned her beast mask in her hands. It was the likeness of a stag's skull, beautiful and intricate. Then she looked up at her fellow master. He stood tall and proud. His ageless face wore the smallest smile. That cursed smile. It reminded her so much of their god. Qila prickled. "What's got you so happy anyway?"

"I have an idea to relieve some of our tension. Let's leave it at that for now." Xigon looked down at his beast mask, a fierce serpentine head that hung from his belt. "How does that sound?"

She had a sense of what his idea might be, and it made her smile too. "All right, after our prayer."

Xigon's fingers trembled on the handles of his crutches, the way they did whenever he was anxious or excited.

When she heard Azvalath come up the stairs, she greeted him. "Good morning, Azvalath."

"Good morning, Master Qila." He sounded slightly anxious. She hoped he hadn't heard her conversation with Xigon. It would be bad to frighten anyone unnecessarily, she thought.

As the others came up, Qila saw that they were all their usual selves, save for one. Jai-Lag was as nonchalant as ever, Rizval still complained, and Lalek and Channei were still opposites in terms of their enthusiasm. Kolo, however, seemed full of fire. She held her head high, vigilant but no longer terrified. She even snapped at Channei.

Qila smiled as she donned her beast mask. Like always, she found herself amazed at how the world looked through Rizval's crystal. It was like looking through dark purplish glass, even when the mask looked opaque from the outside. She wondered how Kolo would look with hers when she received it following her formal initiation. If she received it, Qila corrected herself. It was possible they might still lose Kolo, as much as Qila dreaded the thought.

They formed a circle for their dawn prayer. She took Rizval's hand in her left and Xigon's in her right. Immediately, Qila prickled with goosebumps. Something wasn't right, but she couldn't put a name to it.

Xigon spoke calm and clear. "Hear us, Iron God. Share with us your divine wind, the breath of life, a storm to bear this world anew."

Then she noticed his eyes were locked on her. There was a dull throb in her chest that intensified rapidly to liquid fire in her veins. He was doing something malicious to her. She swallowed hard. No one could know, she thought. They had an image to maintain. Thankfully, her voice showed none of her dread. "Guide our hands, our hearts, our minds to the last light."

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