Supposedly the rite was used quite often in D’Arnath’s day, but as time passed and killing grew more common, the custom died away. Most of us dealt with our guilt in other ways. Only for the Heir was the rite ever required.
I knew it was not to be taken lightly. That was why the petitioner always brought a companion, lest the ordeal be too rigorous or too painful. I was a fool, I believed, as I stripped and gave Bareil my clothing, listening to Ven’Dar’s instruction.
“Do not touch the water until you are ready. You must immerse yourself wholly in each pool and remain beneath the surface for at least a steady count of one hundred. The additional time you spend in each pool is your own choice, though I will bring you out if you stay beyond the point of safety. In some pools that is an hour, in some half a day.”
“Half a - how in the name of all gods would I stay underwater for half a day? There is a small matter of breathing.”
“My lord, you are Dar’Nethi, a born enchanter, and one of the most powerful of your race. You have lived beyond death; you can control the chaos between worlds; you can speak in the minds of others, heal broken limbs, torn flesh, and diseased tissue, and you can create light, that most basic wonder of the universe, from your hand. How can you doubt that you can survive a few hours underwater?”
I gave Bareil my undergarments. As the Dulcé bowed and withdrew, I felt naked far beyond the matter of my bare skin. How hot was water that could produce so much steam?
The Preceptor’s hand rested on my shoulder. “Know that I will be within reach of your voice, or your mind’s call, or a signal from your hand at every moment. I will not desert you, my lord. And I will be ready to guide you between the pools and tell you whatever is necessary for the next.”
“And if I wish to end it?”
“You may end it at any time. Depending on how far you’ve gone, it might take some period of days for your mind to restore itself to something like its current state, but it would do so. Better you should go to the end, once you’ve begun.”
“I will be quite vulnerable.” Stupid, stupid to do this.
He stepped aside, leaving me alone at the brink of the pool. “I’ve set the wards on the gate. And Bareil will remain there to watch, as well. No one can enter the caves without our leave.”
I watched Ven’Dar’s hands as he spoke, wondering if he was casting some winding to convince me to do this thing. But the short, capable fingers stayed still. “And the Lords?” I said.
“We are always vulnerable to the Lords. I will be vigilant.”
“Then I - all of us - are in your hands.”
“Trust me, my lord.”
My last friend closed his eyes and whispered an invocation to Vasrin. As he spoke the last word, I filled my lungs and stepped into the Pool of Cleansing.
Searing… scalding… torment… I would have screamed, but the water was already well over my head. I fought for the surface, but I’d plunged so deep… My feet dragged me lower as if they were made of lead. My flesh would be boiled away before I could reach the air.
“Count, my lord Prince! It has been thirteen, fourteen, fifteen… ” The muffled voice came from an immense distance, but the cadence penetrated mind and body with all the force of Ven’Dar’s will.
A hundred counts. Twenty-eight, twenty-nine… Some part of me began to count, while the rest of my resources were devoted to controlling panic. Others have done this. If Ven’Dar wanted you dead, there are a thousand ways he could have managed it. Don’t fight… kick and glide to the surface… fifty-three, fifty-four…
My chest was on fire inside as well as out. The bottom of the pool was dark, but even hotter than at the surface. As I swam toward the green light sparkling at the surface, trailing mosses of green and red floated from the stony basin walls, brushing my skin… seventy-five, seventy-six…
Almost done. There’s nothing here. You should stop this now… you’ve too much to do to waste time in self-indulgent foolery. Ninety, ninety-one… only an arm’s reach from the air.
My lungs strained to bursting. But as I stretched out my hand in a last pull for the surface, the water around it swirled dark, as if I were… bleeding. In horror and disgust, I thrashed it away, only to have more of it leak out of me. Soon blood flowed from my every pore, from hands and arms and legs, from my eyes, my ears, my nose, from under my fingernails.
I never knew when the count passed a hundred, or when my body began using the scalding water instead of air, for I was preoccupied with the dark exudation from my flesh. So much blood… The water scalded my throat and my gut, yet I wished it hotter so as to clean all the blood away. I rubbed and scraped at my skin, gouged my eyes and ears, and still it flowed. Instead of reaching for the surface, I reversed course and swam deeper.
At the bottom of the pool, moss-covered boulders of all sizes lay in a jumble, radiating heat like a blacksmith’s furnace. Soul-sick, weeping scalding tears, I huddled in the dark, mossy depths and prayed the cleansing waters to boil the blood away.
An hour passed. Two. Eternity…
The distant surface of the water appeared as a patch of pale green light. A shadow moved beyond the surface… beckoning… Ven’Dar, reminding me of the passing time. Reluctantly, I kicked from the bottom of the pool. I would stay at the surface only a moment, long enough to tell him how I had to go down again until I was clean.
But as I rose to the top, the water around me bubbled clear. My hand broke the surface, and a strong, cold hand clasped it firmly and pulled me out.
My reddened skin protested the chill in the air as I knelt on the uneven floor beside the pool and coughed up a bucket of water. Someone dropped a robe of soft wool over my shoulders. A hand on my elbow helped me to my feet - not an easy task. Besides my violent shivering, my legs were as limp as soggy bread.
“Only a short way, my lord. Breathe deeply and slowly as we walk. The Pool of Truth lies just beyond the archway.”
A short passage. Ven’Dar carried the luminant. A brief burst of fire and another diamond-paned lamp revealed a cavern rimed with frost and a long, narrow pool of deep blue. Jagged shards of ice protruded from the surface, knife edges glittering in the lamplight. The water could be nothing but glacial. It was all I could do to let Ven’Dar take the robe away. My fingers and toes were already numb.
“Ah, Ven’Dar, I don’t know… ” My throat was raw from the scalding water, my words little more than a rasping whisper.
“Deep breaths, my lord. Count. There are things far worse than the pain your body reports to you. Step in just here where the water is deep, and no ice can cut your skin. Don’t hesitate. Don’t think. Just do it.”
I stepped forward. My nerves exploded in shock as the icy blue waters closed over my head.
“Count, my lord, one, two, three… ”
… four, five, six… I sank into a blue-white sculpture garden, twisted frozen flowers, trees, gargoyles, every fancy of a demented artist who worked in ice rather than stone… twenty-five, twenty-six… Why did they call this one the Pool of Truth? Pool of Ice would be better. Pool of Madness. Pool of Breathless Folly… fifty, fifty-one… My head felt like to split with the cold. I was desperate for breath, my chest rigid, constricted… sixty… impossible…
But as Ven’Dar had warned me, some things are worse than physical pain. Truth lay waiting for me in the frigid depths - the face of every person I had slain, every person I had sent into battle to die, every person I had failed to protect, to save, to heal, all of them depicted in unyielding ice, eyes cold and empty and accusing… Seri’s face was there, so sad and alone, and beside her a newborn infant… Gerick, the child I had abandoned to his fate because I would not compromise my youthful ideals, because I would not fight… And Martin, Tanager, and Julia, our friends who had died for love of me. Dassine and Exeget, Jayereth and Gar’Dena. Gods, there were so many…