Page 39 of The Merciless Ones

But how is that possible?

I stretch my senses, trying to find any hint of interference on Idugu’s part, but he’s disappeared, his presence no longer there, as it has been since we left the temple. He didn’t bring us here. And neither did the mothers; I touch the necklace just to be sure, but as before, our bond is completely quiet. That door – it moved on its own. No… I still, remembering all the thoughts I had leading up to this moment. I decided Irfut was better than the temple, and somehow, we ended up there. Then I wondered why Idugu hadn’t taken us to the middle of Hemaira, and suddenly here we are.

My eyes widen. The door didn’t move because the mothers intervened or Idugu somehow became benevolent; it moved because I wanted it to. It’s a good thing I didn’t think of asking it to send us to—

I quickly shutter the thought as I turn to the others. “Step out the door,” I say urgently. “Move now.”

Everyone quickly complies, except for Acalan. When I turn, the usually stoic uruni is still hunched in on himself, shaking. Belcalis has to physically pull him out the door, and not a moment too soon. It vanishes the minute she does.

“Acalan, Acalan!” she says, shaking him, but he just slumps down, his head in his hands.

“Can’t go back, can’t go back…” he mumbles, shaking his head.

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask Belcalis, but she just shakes her head, kneels down so she can wrap her arms around him. When she rests her head over his, he bursts into sobs.

I hurry over. “Acalan,” I whisper, sheathing my atikas and kneeling as well. “We’re safe. Look.” I point to our surroundings, the rooftop, the market below us, but he just shakes his head.

“I was there. I swore I’d never go back there.”

“To the Grand Temple?” This question comes from Keita, crouching beside me.

Acalan looks up, miserable. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Acalan takes a deep, shuddering breath. “It was where I took my first assignment as a recruit,” he says. Then he looks away. “Trust me, being at the Warthu Bera is like taking a swim in a warm spring compared to being there.”

“Why?” This question comes from Li, who is frowning, curious.

I am too. The Grand Temple is one of the most coveted assignments a jatu recruit can get. If Acalan, the most religious boy I know, rejected a life as a temple guardian, something awful must have happened.

A cloud falls over Acalan’s face.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Belcalis quickly says. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” Acalan insists.

Then he inhales. Fidgets a little.

“They hurt boys who show any preference for men,” he blurts out. “They say it’s to prevent deviance, but the way they do it, the relish they take in causing pain…” He looks away again. “Anyone they suspect, they hurt him badly. And then they make it so you feel grateful for having been hurt. Like they’re doing you a service.”

I watch him, so many things suddenly falling into place. Most of the recruits I know have already paired themselves with the alaki girls, but Acalan has never found anybody, as far as I know. I never truly thought about it before, but now… I can’t even imagine the bravery it took to make his admission. Men like him, men who like other men, are not even spoken of in Otera. In some ways, it’s considered even worse than women preferring women or even yandau, because boys are the treasures of Otera. They’re the ones who can become priests, marry, go to war, fight for the glory of Oyomo. They’re the ones who can become anything they wish. But a man who likes anyone other than women cannot produce children, cannot become a part of society. He’s considered unnatural – and is castrated at best, killed at worst.

So much brutality. So many punishments for those who step outside of what is considered acceptable.

No wonder Acalan never admitted it before.

He breathes before he continues. “You know what the worst thing is? Most of the priests, they’re like that – preferring the company of men, I mean. I think that’s why they become priests in the first place, because in this sick, awful way, they want to punish themselves.” He looks up, his now-reddened eyes meeting mine. “Sometimes, it’s like, when they’re hurting you, they’re doing it so they don’t have to do it to themselves.”

By now, a muscle is ticking in Keita’s jaw, and my hands are so tightly clenched around the hilts of my atikas, I’ll break them if I squeeze any harder. “I’m going to burn that place to the ground,” I grit out, trying to breathe past the heat rising inside me. “I’m going to set fire to every last stone.”

Acalan seems almost taken aback by my vehemence as he glances at me, but then he smiles a small, sad smile. “I’ll pour the oil,” he says.

“And Ixa will probably do a big, steaming shit on the ashes,” Britta adds helpfully.

Ixa chirps in agreement.

As Acalan rises, Belcalis squeezes him tight. “We love you, you know that, Acalan,” she says softly, a move so out of character for her, all I can do is stare. “Even when you’re being an insufferable know-it-all, we love you.”