Yuri and Zandra took Adrastea’s timidness as a further sign of her weakness. They left the festival early that night to discuss their plans to take over Moldavia. The moon shone in the window of Yuri’s house onto the books spread out before them. Zandra looked up at Yuri with a satisfied grin.
“I think you have nothing to worry about. She is weak as a leader. It only takes a few stones to bring down a dove.”
“You’re not suggesting we stone her?” Yuri looked concerned.
Zandra shook her head. “Did you see the way she shook at Lunasa?”
“Nobody missed that.”
“It shouldn’t be too hard to change her mind.”
“How shall we get her to listen to me?”
“A few unfortunate accidents or bad omens will leave her as fresh clay. Let's say something horrible should befall little Audriel...”
Yuri looked alarmed. “How dare you say such a thing! I would never hurt Audriel.” he got up. “I couldn't do anything to hurt her. I love her.”
He went and stood by the window. Zandra made her move.
“Yuri, what would happen if Adrastea suddenly couldn't be high priestess?”
“The high council would choose a leader themselves.”
“And whom do you think they'd choose?”
Yuri was silent for a moment, then he spoke. “Someone who knows the old rituals...Who has done much for us...Someone who is upstanding...” he turned around “Why, you Zandra!”
Zandra smiled. “And I do agree with the Utopia.”
Yuri became serious again. “But Adrastea will never be incompetent enough to be taken down.”
“Wait and see.” she was standing now. Yuri took her by the shoulders.
“What will you do? Nothing to harm her. Zandra, promise me.”
Zandra shook herself from his grasp. “Oh, no. Nothing to harm her.”
The Mentis took possession of Yuri’s body. “Zandra, your mind is magnificent!”
Zandra bowed her head. “Thank you, my lord.”
Mentis walked across the room to his desk, took up a quill and began writing. “I should reward you for this.” he said.
Zandra became hopeful. “How, my lord?”
The Mentis probed her mind and found her one desire. “I shall give you something that Icharus would not. A child. Someone to help us with our plans. Would you like that, Zandra?”
Zandra wrapped her arms around his neck and embraced him.“Yes, my lord. I would love it. Then I will do what you have bid me.”
“Then it’s settled.” Mentis went back to writing. “Tonight we shall make a child. For now, leave me to my work, Zandra, my love. There is much for Yuri and I to do.”
Zandra went to the bookshelf and took down a leather bound volume. She goes to the bed and reads. Every few moments she glances in The Mentis’ direction.
“Yes, Zandra, what is it?”
“It is nothing, my lord. I was just admiring your strength.” she closed the book. “Maybe I should go and put our plan into action now.” she suggested. “While the moon is still right.” Zandra got her cloak and put it around her shoulders. She then went to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To the temple. I need all the energy I can get to pull off a spell of this magnitude.”
“Do you need my assistance?” The Mentis asked.
“No, my lord. Thank you.” she turned and walked out the door. The air was still warm, it was the middle of summer. She shed her cloak, then walked to the temple of Resurgence. Suddenly, the method hit her.
“The great cold!” Of course! The great cold! The spirits that brought extreme cold weren’t called upon so often, but when let loose, would make a fantastic storm that even Adrastea couldn’t stop. No, only Zandra could stop it. Only she, the one who would open the gate, could stop the flood. It was perfect! Adrastea would be deemed weak in a matter of days! Then she, Zandra Balzar, could step forward and call upon the spirits of summer to drive away the cold. Then they would all see where the real power lie!
Zandra quickened her pace and soon arrived at the temple of resurgence. She placed her cloak on a shelf and got down her book of incantations.
Flipping through the book, she began to look for the right chant that would call up the deities of winter. Upon finding it, she set to work. Setting out her mat, she placed before the crystal several lighted black and purple candles. She knelt upon the mat and began the ritual chant.
“Come, winds of winter. Chill the land. Come ice and snow, bury Moldavia in white. Freeze the bay. Keep them indoors. The power is mine. Make life no more.”
One by one, Zandra blew out the candles. The winds picked up and a definite chill was felt in the air. Zandra put her belongings away and put her cloak around her shoulders. With one final glance, to make sure everything was in its place, she stepped out the door and walked back home.