Sermon 3

The king of Veloth, anon Almalexia, was vexed. Any concubine who birthed in the Purple Chamber would legitimize her child. For while the king was a fool, he understood the power of symbols. He wished to be rid of his least-favourite concubine, but could not say so openly. Hate is like love in this way.

"Blessed bride," said the veiled king. "You are favoured above all women."

And the egg-image of Ayem winced at the violence of this lie.

"But I fear for you. I pray for a healthy child, but fate must be propitiated. Go to the Cave of Echoes and speak your sins into its mouth. Thus will your wickedness be purged from you and your child."

And the eunuchs twittered in agreement, the courtiers nodded at this wisdom. The jealous concubines said nothing, they did not hear, for envy is the wellspring of solipsism.

Kundali wiped her brow, delirious with the death of universes.

"I live only for my king."

The king clapped his hands. "Tend to her."

At once a dozen eunuchs brought feathered fans to bear, for they were well-trained. Others presented candied scrib, caramelised kwama eggs and mint juice. Kundali waved such offerings away, for in a previous life she'd devoured a planet and was still digesting a billion ghosts.

While the eunuchs swarmed around her, the king pulled aside his favourite catamite, versed in the ways of belly magic.

"I have evil intent," said the king. "And you must make it solid."

The catamite smiled, for he was a eunuch, and exulted in violating others as he was violated. (It is for this reason emasculation is now a forbidden practice.)

"Speak your evil," said the catamite. "And have it made flesh."

And Kundali heard not a hiss of these serpent-deeds, for she was lost in adoration. Though she knew the very knife-edge of agony, she clung to favoured treatment, and this dulled pain's blade.

Ayem said, "In time, your name will be an aphorism, your life a parable."

Kundali made no reply, she sucked lotus-dew from a eunuch's ringed fingers, content in materialism.

And Ayem's sigh was heavy with the weight of wisdom. "I was born into you, emblem of the Age of Egoism, to remind me of a lesson. I thank you."

Kundali had caught sight of her jealous false-sisters. She arranged her body in a coy fashion, drawing their eyes to her life-bearing belly. A thousand teeth grit in anger, and Kundali was satisfied.

Some eunuchs dabbed their fingers in nix-blood, began to paint sigils of growth and protection upon Kundali's belly. The sigils were ill-formed, presenting truth as lies. The egg-image of Ayem recoiled at this, and rearranged the sigils into a shape pleasing to the tired eyes of immortals.

The eunuchs watched, amazed, as their rough words took on life, squirming and wriggling. A foolish one, versed in the ash-speech of elder times read the sigils:

"AE ALTADOON AE ET PADHOMAE."

And the air did buckle beneath the weight of these words. The eunuchs surrounding Kundali were crushed by exactitude's mass and died.

The corpses were dragged away by silver-sinewed servitors. The courtiers shook their heads.

"A poor show," said one.

"Indeed," said another. "I have seen far better deaths."

And Ayem thought, "I shall orchestrate a death so beautiful, for a moment it will resemble the face of God."

This is the death she plans for Vvardenfell. Be comforted by this.

The ending of the words is ALMSIVI.