Temple of the Traveler: Book 02 - Dreams of the Fallen (21 page)

Humi replied, “Send word to his majesty that his bride-to-be awaits him at the Temple of Sleep.”

The head dock guard saw his opportunity for political advancement and snapped to attention. “I’ll do so personally. The rest of my men are at your disposal, Lady.” True to his word, he dashed for the rookery.

The other six guards stood staring at the rows of foreign knights and squires forming on either side of the white palanquin. Turning her attention to the next guard in line, Humi said, “You, the unshaven one. Yes. The rogue sheriff isn’t in the rubble of the temple but has escaped to the North. Send your armies there. Find him. Kill him. Do not return with a report until this has been accomplished.”

“You want me to do what?” the fool blurted.

The Imperial thug at Humi’s side held a decorative, thick-headed club taller than he was. He looked to his employer for instruction. Humi gestured with a circular motion, and then held up a single finger. Her henchman swung the enormous club with blinding speed at the hesitating guard’s leg. The punished man fell screaming. Another Kragen retainer confiscated the man’s Honor.

Humi addressed the crowd as footmen hauled the writhing guard out of her sight. “Perhaps you weren’t listening. Your superior officer turned you over to my command. I don’t repeat myself or explain. Consider this demotion a lesson.”

She turned to a third man. “The man who brings me news of the sheriff’s death shall receive land, title, and the favor of the crown. Go now.”

This man didn’t hesitate, but ran to notify the troops clearing away the devastation.

To the next guard, she said, “A small contingent of my men will remain behind to guard my flagship. These you’ll escort to the lodgings the merchants thoughtfully provided.” This guard stepped aside to confer with the leader of one of the two columns of Kragen troops.

To a fifth soldier, she said, “You will lead me and my men to the Temple of Sleep.”

“But it’s dark and an unsafe wreck, Lady Kragen. And those cultists are raving lunatics,” protested the soldier.

Again the Kragen club fell at her command. o a thireld up three fingers, and the offender’s head was caved in. “Do not speak thus of my goddess.”

The next man in line was quick enough to kneel. “As you wish, milady.”

The only local guard remaining at the dock sighed in relief as Lady Kragen and her entourage departed. An hour later, the docks were silent and unmoving again.

Humi’s knights called out as they walked the old south road out of town: “Sleep for the weary, dreams for the faithful.”

When sunken-eyed, desperate stragglers would approach, drawn by these words, Humi would halt the procession and speak to the lost souls. “Serog tells you to obey me.” Invariably, their eyes became vacant and they fell in behind the caravan to the Dreaming City.

By the time she reached the excavation site, Humi had knights and a small army of sleepers under her control. She had her retainers pass out food and blankets to the homeless masses. The Lady of the Deep knew what it was like to live in gutters. For these people she had compassion. Her face beamed with benevolence as the dragon’s scattered servants gathered to meet their new leader.

Meanwhile, Tumberlin was given orders to search the rubble for clues. He quickly located the sole survivor, a guard pinned under the stone building. The crushed man was hanging on by a thread, and Tumberlin downed the man’s life-force like an oyster out of a half shell. While hiding underground, savoring the flavor of the life-force as it added to his inner glow, the Shadow found Zariah’s office. He remembered the location of the room from earlier visits. Tumberlin noted the positions of heaps of documentation that would be of interest to the overreaching Kragen witch. He decided that he’d save the information until she was in a particularly foul mood, and use it to divert pain.

Only one item in the office eluded him. The High Priestess’ favorite quill was missing. The Spirit thought to keep this item as a trophy. Personal belongings of the powerful always resonated pleasantly. He poked about underground until he stumbled upon the treasure chamber. That Tumberlin had to report immediately or face punishment.

Tumberlin’s insistence that no one remained alive and his constant lurking disturbed the rescue squad. Despite the late hour, the head of the search effort agreed to take his hunt for the sheriff northward. Kragen retainers set up a perimeter and began digging for the loot as soon as secrecy could be enforced.

When the Shadow returned to his wandering, he spiraled outward from the vault until he came across the sought-after writing implement. It was lying across a coded message. Here, the Shadow struggled. He couldn’t read the scrawl, but knew its contents to be vital. Tumberlin compromised. The apprentice wizard found a knight by the name of Drasnir that he had bribed before in the flesh, and offered a deal. “Tell her you found this, and the slut will reward you handsomely.”

“What do you want in return?” asked Drasnir warily.

“When the time comes, I’ll want only deniable inaction. A glance the other way, a slip in the position of a string; it will be easy,” the Shadow hissed.

The greedy knight claimed Zariah’s last cryptic message, and true to the hungry ghost’s promise, Drasnir was promoted.

The next morning, when the unbelievers were well gone and the treasure secure, Humi addressed the gathered throng with a large, silk dragon banner hanging behind her. “Your old High Priestess is gone. This temple is gone, forever!” she began, shocking many of them. “But the goddess lives on.”

The surviving handmaidens and a few wizards planted in the crowd murmured, “Praise Serog.”

“The era of the Sleeping Dragon is gone. I am your new High Priestess, the voice of the storming sea. A new era begins. Now begins the era of the Conquering Dragon. All shall cower before the wrath and power of the awakened goddess.”

A ground swell of voices responded. “All praise.”

“I am the speaker for the goddess who rules the Inner Sea and rides upon its tempests in rage. I am she who rules the waves from this day! She who will marry her force to the emperor and give him victory over all Kings, all men. Serog wished my heir to sit on the throne of thrones in the Center of the World. Our goddess has awakened to begin a new dynasty, a new dominion. And you shall be her chosen people!”

“All praise to Serog!” roared the crowd, working into a frenzy.

Now the emperor would meet her forces halfway, Humi mused.

Tashi walked behind the group until near dark. Eve
ntually, Sarajah glanced back and noticed that the sheriff was sweating, panting, and heavily distracted. Because Brent was consistently polite and kind, she resolved to be civil to the followers of the Traveler. Hanging back, she whispered to him. “Is there anything I can do?”

They made a travois and dragged the sleeper toward the nearest stream. The woman washed herself and her clothes while the boy and gravediggers made camp.

Sarajah’s body appeared almost 40, but it had been well-maintained and exercised by the predator wearing it. Since her old clothing had been ruined by the dream translation, she was left with her ragged skirt and Tashi’s spare linen kalura.

“We’re being hunted by the most powerful army in the world, and you’re
lost
?” the formerly possessed woman asked.

“Finding one person in all this wilderness would take a miracle. It’s impossible. I might as well turn myself in to the Pretender now,” she complained.

Brent clapped the sheriff on the arm. “Anyone can. It’s not about what you know; it’s who you are and the rules of the world. I’ll prove it to you. Have you got a flare?” Tashi pulled the small pin off his right shoulder. “Put it on the stopper of your water jug, here in this pool.” Reluctantly, Tashi obeyed. Everyone was watching the show, expectantly. “Then . . . let’s see. He says ‘where is justice?’ to find you. To find him, you just need to say something like ‘where is mercy?’”

The sheriff blinked. It couldn’t be that easy. Nonetheless, he uttered the phrase. The lapel pin rotated to point north by northeast.

The gravediggers and the boy set off in the indicated direction. The other pair looked from the pin to each other, and back to the pin. Eventually, Tashi had to re-plug his water jug and follow. Sarajah whispered, “Right. All I had to do was ask.”

She snapped her fingers to break his deepening trance and asked, “Don’t you think of anything other than taking that woman to bed?”

“Bed?” he said, startled. “No. We used closets, windows, wagon wheels, everything but her bed. That would have left evidence. We might’ve been caught.”

“Wagon wheels?” asked Sarajah.

“With silk ties . . .” Tashi began, falling silent when Brent walked over, wondering why they were both blushing.

Sarajah didn’t sleep well that night. She kept hearing echoes of power. The urge to read the cards had been incredible, but she’d resisted doing anything that would have appeared threatening in front of her captors, her liberators. They didn’t know yet that the cards came from the altar. However, something was wrong with the world. She couldn’t sleep, not until total exhaustion had pulled her under. The next morning had an unreal air.

She wandered to the nearby river to draw water for the day. As she reached the banks, she paused at a strange sight. The sheriff was sitting in the river, still dressed in his glass-like chainmail. He was hunched forward, staring into the current.

“Are you okay?” asked Sarajah.

Tashi shuddered at her voice. “No, Alana. I’m not.” Sarajah wanted to curse, to run past him. She had problems of her own. She had problems enough figuring out her new life without some idiot following her like a love-starved puppy. Still, Zariah had done this to him. “I’m the world’s best killer who’s not allowed to kill. I need to wash off the blood, but I can’t even take off my armor anymore.” His voice almost cracked.

Some part of her couldn’t leave; she couldn’t turn her back on his grief, not when her rider had caused so much of it. Dressed in his clothing, she owed him something. “I’ll help you.”

She waded calf-deep into the cool water while he remained a statue. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll hold you under and drown you?”

“I wouldn’t stop you,” he said, simply.

All vestiges of anger she had been harboring against him evaporated when she saw the sincerity in his eyes. When she placed her hand on his shoulder to tug on the chainmail, icy pain bit her. She managed not to cry out. One of the first lessons the possessed learn was to let pain wash through or be driven mad. “It’s harming you,” she said matter-o-factly.

“I must bear it—that was the price. I just want to be clean again.”

Gritting her teeth, Sarajah gripped the mail and unclipped the release. Tashi gasped as she slid the instrument of torture off of him. The armor was almost alive. She resisted its assault using sheer willpower. The fact that she was able to remove his defenses told her that Nigel’s binding spell was broken. There was nothing holding her here except her own curiosity.
Was it really that simple—change your name to change your destiny?