Date Published: January 5, 2021
Publisher: Blackrose Press
Astoreth, the Devi Goddess of Love, demands complete devotion from her morevs because hearts divided cannot serve.
Moreva Tehi’s hearts aren’t divided. They belong to Laerd Teger.
And the price of her love could be her life.
Book Reviews
"Bland may very well be the Alice Walker of science fiction." The reviewer is Vincent Dublado, Readers' Favorite.
"This is perhaps the most entertaining science fiction novel I have ever read." Rabia Tanveer, Readers' Favorite.
Chapter One
“I could have you executed for this, Moreva Tehi,”
Astoreth said. My Devi grandmother, the
Goddess of Love, scowled at me from Her golden throne in the massive Great Hall
of Her equally massive É. Today, Her long, white hair had been woven into
slender braids entwined with multicolored strands of tiny jewels. They sparkled
in the candescent light radiating from the ceiling and the undulant,
wall-height fixtures. Her golden eyes burned with fury.
Sitting on my heels, I bowed my head, not wanting
to see Her anger. I stared at the black and gold polished floor, trying to
ignore the trickle of sweat snaking down my spine. My unbound hair, white like
Hers, hung over my face. “Yes, Most Holy One,” I said, trying to keep my voice
steady.
“You blaspheme by not celebrating Ohra-Namtar, the holiest rite of the Gods. You were well aware that this
was not Ohra-Sin, praising My role in creating Peris, but extolling all the
deeds of the Great Pantheon in bringing this planet to life. Ohra-Namtar
celebrates Our creation of the hakoi, and the worthiest, handpicked by Me and
My Brothers and Sisters, celebrated with Us. And Marduc asked Me of your
whereabouts. Your absence sorely disappointed Him.”
I shuddered in fear and loathing. Marduc, Lord of
the Skies, was Astoreth’s twin Brother, and my grand-uncle. I’d been scared of
Him since childhood, and even then made sure I was never alone with Him. I
hated the way He’d stare at me when no one was looking, licking His lips as if
I was a juicy piece of meat just waiting to be devoured. I had been too young
to participate in the last Ohra-Namtar, and knew He would have been only too
eager to get His hands on me during this one.
“Moreva Tehi,” Astoreth’s hard tone brought me
back to the moment. “You are My acolyte. Your participation was not an option.
By your absence, you did not share your body with Us, your brother and sister
morevs, and Our worthy hakoi. You sullied the sacredness of Ohra-Namtar. What
do you have to say for yourself?”
“I can only offer my most abject apologies, Most
Holy One.”
“Your apologies are not accepted.”
“Yes, Most Holy One.”
“Where were you?”
“I was in the laboratory, working on a cure for
red fever. Our four-year cycle will end this summer, and thousands of hakoi in
the Gods’ cities and towns could die—”
“I know that,” my grandmother snapped. “But why
did you miss Ohra-Namtar? Did you not hear the bells?”
“Yes, Most Holy One. I heard them. I was about to
lay aside my work when I noticed an anomaly in one of my pareon solutions, so I decided to take a minute
to investigate. What I found…I-I just lost track of time.”
“You lost track of time?” She repeated, sounding
incredulous. “Do you expect Me to believe that?”
“Yes, Most Holy One. It is the truth.”
My head and hearts began throbbing, my grandmother
probing me for signs I had lied. But She wouldn’t find any. Lying to Her was
pointless, and Her punishment for lying was harsh. Swaying under the onslaught,
I endured the pain without making a sound. After what seemed like forever the
throbbing eased, leaving me feeling sick and dizzy.
“Very well. I accept what you say is true. I still
do not accept your apology.”
“Yes, Most Holy One,” I said, panting a little.
A minute passed in uncomfortable silence.
Uncomfortable for me, anyway. Another
minute passed. And another. Is…is She
finished with me? I prayed to be dimissed. But I wasn’t.
“What do you have against My hakoi, Moreva?”
I frowned. “I don’t understand, Most Holy One.”
“I have watched you. You give them no respect. You
heal them because you must, but you treat them like animals. Why is that?”
The trickle of sweat reached the small of my back
and pooled there. “But my work—”
“Your work is a game between you and the red
fever. It has nothing to do with My hakoi.”
I didn’t reply. It was true. Discovering the cure
was a challenge I’d taken on because no one since the dawn of Peris had been
able to find one. It was a war, me assaulting the virus’s defenses, and the
virus fending off my attacks. Our war was my obsession, and one I meant to win.
And I didn’t care about the hakoi. I
despised them. They were docile enough—the Devi’s spawning and breeding program
saw to that—but they were slow-witted, not unlike the pirsu the É raised for meat and hide.
They stank of makira, the pungent cabbage
that was their dietary staple. From what I’d seen traveling through Kherah to Astoreth’s and to the És of other
Gods, all the hakoi were stupid and smelly, and I wanted nothing to do with
them.
But I wouldn’t—couldn’t—admit She was right. I
wracked my brain, trying to think of something that wasn’t an outright lie.
Then it came to me. “Most Holy One, I treat Your hakoi the way I do because it
is the Hierarchy of Being as the Devi created it. You taught us the Great
Pantheon of Twelve is Supreme. The minor
Devi are beneath You, the morev are
beneath the minor gods, and Your hakoi are beneath the morev. Beneath the hakoi are the plants and animals of Peris. But
sometimes Your hakoi forget their place, and must be reminded.”
The Great Hall was silent. I held my breath,
praying She wouldn’t probe me again.
“A pretty explanation, Moreva Tehi. But My hakoi
know their place. It is you who do not know yours. You are the only morev in
Kherah to have more Devi blood in your veins than hakoi, but that does not
change your station, nor can you can rise above it. Your privileges—to freely
move about Uruk without É authorization, to participate in the Gods’ festivals
and games, to travel most anywhere in Kherah—are the same as any other of your
brothers and sisters. And it is the morev who attend My hakoi. As a healer, you
are not too good to minister to their needs,
and you are surely not too good to celebrate Ohra-Namtar with them.”
I
swallowed. “Yes, Most Holy One.”
“Look at Me.”
I raised my head. My grandmother’s expression was
fierce.
“And that is why you let the time get away from
you, as you say. You, Moreva Tehi, My
acolyte of Love, are a bigot. I might understand if you were still a child, but
you are not. You have done nothing to better yourself since then. Your bigotry
is the reason you did not celebrate Ohra-Namtar. You did not want to share your
body with Our hakoi.” She glared, as if daring me to contradict her.
I stared into Her golden eyes, wanting to deny Her
accusation, but that would be a lie. I kept quiet.
She leaned forward. “I have overlooked many of
your transgressions while in My service. I know you use your psi power to
harass other morevs for what you perceive as slights. But I cannot overlook
your bigotry, or your missing Ohra-Namtar. I will not execute you because you
are too dear to My heart. The stewardship for Astoreth-69 in the Syren Perritory ends in two days. You will take the
next rotation.”
My hearts froze. This
was my punishment? Getting exiled to Syren? Everyone knew the Syren Perritory in Peris’s far northern hemisphere
was the worst place in the world to steward a landing beacon. Cold and dark,
with dense woods full of wild animals, the Syren was no place for me. My place
was in Kherah, a sunny desert south of the planet’s equator, where the fauna was kept in special habitats for learning and
entertainment. As for the Syrenese, they
were the descendants of one of the Devi’s earliest and failed hakoi spawning
and breeding experiments, and were as untamed as the perritory where they lived.
My throat tightened, and a tear formed in the
corner of my eye. Eresh…he’s in the Syren
Perritory now. I’ll be taking his place. It’s already been a year since I’ve
seen him, and I won’t see him again for another year. Two years without my best
friend…my only friend. What am I to do?
I managed to get up the gumption to protest, but
didn’t. Challenging my grandmother would be disrespectful, and my punishment
would be even worse than exile. It would also be futile. Astoreth’s word was
law, and it had just come down on my head. “Yes, Most Holy One,” I said, my
voice meek.
She leaned
back on Her throne. “Mehmed will come to your room after breakfast tomorrow so
you can be fitted for your uniform.”
“My uniform, Most Holy One? I will not be taking
my clothes?”
“No. As overseer of the landing beacon, you are
the liaison between the Mjor village as well as the commander of the
garrison. Your subordinate, Kepten Yose, will report to you once a marun and you are to relay the garrison’s needs
to Laerd Teger,
the Mjoran village chief.”
“Yes, Most Holy One.”
“I will make allowance for your healer’s kit and a
portable laboratory, but you are not to take your red fever research. I am sure
you have other projects you can work on while you are there.”
“But—”
“No, Moreva Tehi. It is too dangerous.”
“I can take precautions—”
“No. I will not allow you to endanger the Mjorans.
That is My final word. ” She gazed at me for a long moment. “You should also
know that they, like all Syrenese, are not a forgiving people. They do not take
transgressions—of any kind—lightly.”
I swallowed. “I understand, Most Holy One.”
“Good.” Her eyes narrowed. “One more thing. As the
garrison’s moreva, you will lead the services in worship of Me, and that
includes Ohra-Sin. Go now.”
“Thank you, Most Holy One.” I stood on shaky legs,
bowed, and backed out of the Great Hall. Fleeing to my room, I fell on the bed
and sobbed. It was bad enough to be exiled
to the Syren Perritory and to spend another year without Eresh, but Ohra-Sin
with the garrison? Only the hakoi served in Astoreth’s military. I felt dirty
already. And not allowing me to work on my red fever project was punishment by
itself.
A hand touched my shoulder. “Tehi, what’s wrong?”
a worried voice said. It was Moreva Jaleta,
one of my friendlier morev sisters.
“I-I’m being sent to the Syren Perritory to
steward Astoreth-69,” I wailed.
“But why?”
I sat up. “I missed Ohra-Namtar yesterday and
n-now Astoreth is punishing me.”
She gave me an unsympathetic look. “You’re lucky
She didn’t have your head. Be thankful you’re Her favorite.”
I sniffed,
but said nothing.
Jaleta patted my shoulder. “It won’t be so bad,
Tehi. The year will be over before you know it. Come on, it’s time to eat.”
About the Author
Award-winning author Roxanne Bland was born in the shadows of the rubber factory smokestacks in Akron, Ohio but grew up in Washington, D.C. As a child, she spent an inordinate amount of time prowling the museums of the Smithsonian Institution and also spent an inordinate amount of time reading whatever books she could get her hands on, including the dictionary. A self-described “fugitive from reality,” she has always colored outside the lines and in her early years of writing, saw no reason why a story couldn’t be written combining the genres she loved and did so despite being told it wasn’t possible. Today, she writes stories that are mashups of paranormal urban fantasy, romance, and science fiction, as well as other speculative fiction genres.
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