Hey guys, this chapters a bit short (like just over 1000 words) but it was kind of overdue so i wrote this this morning but my internet was not working till this evening so... yeah your probably thinking excuses excuses, i wish she'd shut up but anyway!

Sorry for any spellings or grammar, and thank you for all the reviews of last chapter!

Forgotten of God 7: Now

It is cold, but not awfully so. It is cold like pleasurable shivers: running up your spine and down to your fingertips like you could pass on the coldness to someone else by just touching them. There is no wind though, and the street is empty. Ropes hang from windows and doorframes, draping wet clothes and sheets out above and around my body to dry in the night. They look like grey shadows in stark contrast to the bleakness of the night. The windows supply no light from behind the closed shutters, as would be expected for it was past twelve midnight. I huddle in my cloak, enjoying the warmth it supplies me with and push past another sheet to turn to a small wooden door.

It is smoke-filled and warmer than outside in the building. Almost silent laugher rises from wooden booths at the back of the room and men and woman mingled between sets and tables, playing cards, drinking, or gambling. It feels wrong to be here. This place is for the ignorance of people who had turned their backs on the God's. It is looked badly upon to drink, and even worse to play with money like it was all some kind of big joke. Silly, the Aya I am playing does not care about the God's.

I walk towards the back of the room and pull away a curtain to step into the corridor at the back. There is a girl standing at the far end, her back pushed into the wall, one leg around a man's thigh as she runs her fingers through his black hair. I met her eyes momentarily. She has pretty eyes, and a beautiful face. Such a waste. Turning away from her I made my way up the stairs and into another room, guilt filling me. That could have been me, if had chosen differently. Instead I chose to lie and cheat to feed myself. I chose a life of detachment, not that it seems to be working I think.

'You're late,' says Tethous, standing up from his chair.

I don't apologise. Tualaghi do not apologise, and I would not rise to his words as if they were bait.

'You're early,' I reply, taking a seat in one of the wooden chairs placed around the square table. Tethous sits down again.

'Who's this?' asks one of the other people. Including Tethous, the speaker, and myself there were six people. All with veils and stormy eyes. All, apart from me, are men.

Surprisingly Tethous spoke for me. 'This is Aya. Her father owned a lot of money. Now it is hers.' That much was true, but then I mostly built my lies from the truth, that way there could never be a fault. I hated faults in lies. 'She is a strong believer in our cause.'

'This is not woman's work. You should send her away,' says another.

Tethous was silent for a moment, his eyes on mine. He would not have said anything if he did not believe my story. He believes I'm with them, truly. 'We're all on the same side, gentlemen. Now, down to business.'


I listen, taking notes mentally. I keep my eyes open, wide and apparent. I am meant to believe in all this, and at the end I am meat to agree with the plot. It is all meant to be my objective as well as theirs. These people do not see how wrong they were, how corrupt. But I am corrupt, the world is corrupt, and here it all comes into place: there were people who have good intentions and occasionally do something bad. Some people are bad and struggle to keep it under control. Others are corrupt but they just don't care. But this is different. It is the kind of planning that told you it looks bad from an outsider's point of view but good, perfect even from the insider's image. The men around the table have a mad look in their eyes that told you they have the blood of the stars flowing in their veins. The look that said we're going to be kings.

'Does everyone agree?' asks Tethous. The shadowed faces around me nod. I am playing at believing in this plan but they don't know that so I nod also. 'Good. That's all.' There's a shuffling of paper, and the men trickle slowly from the room. Regardless of my want to be rid of this room, this plan, this knowledge, I remain firmly planted to my seat.

'Something you want?' asks Tethous setting down the maps and records we had been viewing in a pile. There's just one page, about thirty sheets down, it's slightly out of line… Tethous plants his hand on the table forcefully, upsetting the pile. 'I said-'

'I heard you,' I reply cutting him off.

'Well?' impatience lips his voice.

'Why have you suddenly decided to trust me?'

'As I said, we're all on the same side.' I stare into his eyes. The darkness in them is so profound they seem to penetrate my eyes. He made me wonder what it was like to live like him. How did he live? Did Tethous wake up every morning feeling helpless or strong, or did he not even really live at all?

Was he hunted by his choices?

'Why now? Why do you,' I pause, gathering my thoughts. I've got him talking and I don't want him to stop. 'Why do we chose now? Now, to take power?'

'It's not now.' He replies. 'This plan has been going on for years and years, we're just lucky enough to see it being pulled through. Don't you understand? We have fed our faith and our doubts have starved. And, anyway, all the important people- the Wakirs and the Emikrir- they will all be in the same place. A perfect way to kill all the leaders while we have the chance.'

In his eyes I saw a flicker of madness, the same madness that is like a headache in your bones. I am familiar with the feeling.

'Does this scare you,' he asks.

Yes. Yes it does. 'No,' I say.

'If we give up now, what were we fighting for?' he asks me.


'Where can I find the Wakir?' I ask, catching my breath. When I had left the building in the lower reaches of the city I had tracked my way home, running and dodging the people watching me with care. I do not like the peeping eyes that watched my every move even though I know I did exactly the same to everyone else. It was egotistical of me, maybe.

The guard posted outside the Wakir's rooms looked at me blankly. 'He's gone.'

'What do you mean he's gone?' I asked.

'The Princess, him, his wife and their son's left this morning for the capital,' replies the man, shifting from one foot to the other.

'But this is important!' I want to scream in the man's face but I don't. Calmness, that's what I need now- to be calm, composed. The man shrugs.

I'll just have to find them myself, I think.

Like if you didn't understand the gist of the plan, the Tualaghi are going to kill all the Wakir's and the Emikkir in the captil.

please review!