Temple of the Traveler: Book 02 - Dreams of the Fallen (44 page)

“Why do human wishes matter?” asked Tashi.

“Not all of them are confined to the temple grounds, and they have ballista on the walls that can reach the far side of the river. He lets us all feed at the fringes in exchange for two of our trolls guarding the rope bridge.”

“Tell us more about the leader,” she requested.

“He’s grand in his own eyes. He trains constantly for war. Every cycle, he learns a new style of combat. Currently, he fights with curved swords.”

“Like the nomads, in the two-handed style?” asked Tashi.

“Aye.”

The seeress held up a hand for the ex-sheriff to remain silent as she considered all this. “How many Dawn folk surround this Door?”

“I know the suffering of wrongful captivity. It’s the responsibility of the strong to right such imbalances where they may,” she said, reciting one of the tenets of Archanon that she’d written that morning. “Therefore, we have come to close the Final Temple and free the Traveler.”

The panther’s tale puffed out like a bottlebrush. “You embark on a great campaign, mistress. There’re some who might aid you without pay, just to spite the Council and be part of this victory.”

****

At dawn, before they slept, Sarajah watched Brent, Tashi, and Jotham ‘greet the sun.’

“You can join in,” noted the priest, bending his knees deeply.

“I’m just a spectator for now,” she insisted. “I’m still working on those tenets. I only have a few days left until my trial period’s over.”

“We all know I’m the most kick-ass priestess left in this sorry world. He’s not going to find another woman with my qualifications.”

“Or modesty.”

She smiled. “My closest competitors are the women trying to put your head on a pike. Do you really want to fight me on this?”

Tashi opened his mouth to reply, but Jotham quoted a proverb about silence. Sarajah continued writing in her journal. The rest of the exercise passed in quiet.

As they returned to the camp, Tashi said, “What prompted you to watch today?”

She waited for the boy to climb into her tent. “Um . . . Sophia put her tent a little farther from the rest of ours today. I wanted to give them some privacy. When they’re together, it sounds like starving people at an hour-long banquet. Her sighing at the end is the worst. After that kiss you gave me earlier, there are certain sounds I don’t need to hear if I’m going to sleep.”

While Dhagmurna baited and distracted the enemy, Nerissa landed outside Silverton, the capital of Zanzibos. Able to travel day and night on the river, her arrival was earlier than anyone had a
nticipated. This would be a tremendous tactical advantage. However, the guildmaster’s wife was nervous. Although she routinely handled administrative tasks and even troop-movement messages, she’d never marched into battle before. Due to the all-or-nothing nature of the venture, she had to not only deliver the rousing speech, but lead the charge.

Advance scouts eliminated the sentries near the bridge. The defenses were incomplete and undermanned. If they were quiet, they’d have up to an hour before anyone knew the city was breeched. She addressed the horde of men smearing soot on their faces and pitch on their swords. “We don’t have a home anymore. The only way we’ll have one again is to succeed at this mission. Run the path in silence, enter the palace, kill the royal males, escape, and nothing else: no shouting, no destruction, no looting, no raping, and no drinking. The blood feud was registered at sundown. This will be the biggest contract killing in history.” When no one responded to the dry recitation, she added, “To avenge Morlan!”

“For Morlan!” shouted the others in response.

The great doors on the sides of the ship lowered and 660 troops tromped down the ramps, three at a time. Only around a hundred remained to guard the ship and the landing area. This was their most vulnerable moment, but there were sentries shouting and no archers shooting from the walls. Men passed Nerissa by as she struggled to keep up. As several soldiers noted, she ran like a girl. It took the first hand fourteen bits to reach the palace gates. The Brotherhood lost two hands of men in the first minute, but they had insiders, ladders, and overwhelming numbers. Four more hands perished immediately inside the wall. Taking the king’s quarters cost her sixty men. But once they were inside that defensive ring, the palace walls worked in their favor.

By the time the out-of-breath Nerissa reached the royal bedchambers, the King was being held on his knees by her soldiers. Zandar begged, “If you call this off, I’ll give you my twelve virgin daughters to marry! Princesses, every one with a dowry of her own weight in silver.”

Nerissa took off her helmet and said, “You might’ve had better luck with my husband. Personally, the idea of buying a killer off with the promise of forced sex with your child repulses me. I’m a mother myself.” She slashed his jugular with her own dagger.

“Get the severed heads to the ship immediately,” she ordered.

The popular response, though delayed, was much greater than expected. They lost another dozen runners trying to transport the heads. “Pull back and fortify! Signal the ship to leave.”

She consolidated inside the fortress with five hundred men. As instructed, she demanded to speak to a powerful third party, a governor, to handle the negotiations.

****

The urgent request was handed to Onira almost the moment he arrived in Innisport. With theatrical coaching from Jolia, the new governor brought all sides together at the bargaining table. With consummate skil, he appeased house Kragen and preserved the sole male in Zandar’s dynasty. As reward, he was nominated for regency and offered the same twelve virgin princesses.

After politely refusing the princesses, Onira performed the ‘reluctant acceptance’ speech that Jolia wrote for the heavy burden of protecting and guiding the young king-to-be. Then he sent a complete report to the Pretender: west is yours.

****

If Sandarac could maintain his hold on Kiateros until he pressured Queen Lavender into a treaty, he might still achieve his victory. As Zariah had predicted, it all came down to the army he’d sent north to help his allies at the Final Temple. The wait was agonizing for the micromanaging emperor.

****

Anna was the sole survivor from both shipwrecks. Rescued from the shoals by monks from Muro, she arrived at the Center, seasick and bedraggled. They cleaned her up and gave her a small room near the maids’ quarters. She was fed and treated well enough, but the heads of the College of Wizards kept her waiting. A few people approached her about her skills as a server or brewer, but no one asked to see the Togg family jewels.

Eventually, the College issued Anna an invitation to the Emperor’s Day celebration in the royal court. Imperials traditionally exchanged gifts to honor the beginning of the New Year, but the maids told her that here, they threw a huge gala. Formal dress was required. Looking down at her own shoddy clothing, she sighed. Receiving no response from her contacts, she interviewed for a job at the oldest Imperial alehouse in the world—the Lusty Mermaid. The elderly proprietor led her on a sampling tour of his basement, thinking to take advantage. After she had a few sips, she told him what could be improved about the contents of each keg. Only the nut-flavored dark beer met with her approval.

“Some of the others might be offended. You’d be the first woman to ever hold such a position. I’d have to start you out as a trainee and let you work your way up.”

“The Shore Leave across the street has an excellent honey oat stout I could improve upon . . .”

“Bah, the apron’s yours. But only if you write out the recipes you’ve been talking about.”

“Put your offer in writing, and I’ll write out your father’s recipe. If I’m still here after a year, I’ll write out your competitor’s.”

“Arg. You’re worse than a pirate.”

She blinked innocently. “You’re right. I need to dress the part. So you’ll need to throw in a gown for the gala.”

When the owner of the Mermaid made choking sounds, she added room and board. After an hour of haggling over her salary, she left with a letter of credit for the dress shop. She bought the plainest satin gown imaginable, but dded roo a deep-red fabric to match her necklace.

Pinetto rode in the wagon as a hero. The throne pieces and supplies took up a great deal of room, leaving him only a narrow crevice of shelter. As the band of Kiateran and southeastern alliance soldiers
took a rutted and bumpy logging road west, Sajika set and bound most of his wounds herself. She was quick and efficient. When the smith asked her about this skill, the former secret police woman said, “I know how to break all the bones for maximum pain and incapacitation. I sort of do the reverse to set them.”

The rest of the men left her alone after that. Only Pinetto smiled. After giving him enough brandy to take the edge off the pain, she whispered, “You’re the only one who understands me. You don’t know how rare that is. What am I going to do if something happens to you?”

That admission eased the astronomer’s suffering more than all the wine and powders combined. Sajika had a little brandy herself. The howls from the long elevator ride out of the dark mineshaft still haunted her. Many of the survivors drained their beer rations the first night. Several men woke up in a panic and stoked the campfire higher than regulations allowed. They claimed it was the northern cold. No one wanted to talk about the mission.

The next day, Pinetto’s injuries stood out in vivid color: bruises everywhere, a bloodshot eye, and parts sore from bending in ways no body should. When one of the Kiateran soldiers who hadn’t gone on the mission to the Grotto complained about Pinetto sleeping on the wagon, Prince Legato shouted for the entire contingent to hear, “That skinny Imperial is my royal vizier. Anyone who speaks against him deals with me. That man has some of the biggest balls I’ve ever seen.” Sajika raised an eyebrow, but didn’t contradict him. “He made sure everyone else had weapons. Unarmed, he held down a demon so the smith and I could drive a crystal spike through its head. Until you do the same, keep your pie hole shut. Every break and gouge he took, he took for our kingdom, for us.”

After they halted for a meal and a rest, the ambassador made Pinetto soft food because a few of his front teeth were chipped and loose. The smith had just carried him back from behind the boulder that they were using as a privy when Legato joined the trio. “I’m serious about my debt. Name anything in my kingdom, and I’ll give it to you if I can,” the prince promised.