The Ritual (21 page)

*   *   *   *   *

The interlude delayed our water trip by about a measure, but of course we were in no hurry, and we returned to the camp fully supplied. Shani and Mior were curled up in each other’s arms, stark naked and fast asleep, and Zash carefully spread a blanket over them before pulling me with him into his own sleeping roll.

We left early the following morning and headed straight north, reaching the edge of the Whistling Plains close to evening on the second day. At that point Zash and Mior conferred together for a while and consulted an old, battered compass before adjusting their direction a tad.

Later on that day, at the fire, I asked, “So it’s the Monastery of Balance next?”

“Yes, it is,” Zash confirmed.

“Tell us about it. I’ve heard of the place, but that’s about as far as my knowledge goes.”

“Right
,” he said. He settled into a more comfortable position and pulled me to him so my head came to rest in his lap, and idly drew his fingers through my hair as he spoke. “A lot of what we know is hearsay, so we’ll have to verify it, but basically the monastery was founded hundreds of years ago by a group of humans as a means of controlling and regulating the use of a spring that had been found. The waters of this spring can heal just about anything short of death, so as you can imagine, after its discovery entire battles were being fought over who could claim it as theirs. Arlennis wasn’t a coherent whole then – all the elven lords had their own little fiefdoms.

“The fighting lasted a long time, but no single party was able to keep the upper hand, so in the end the order of the Monks of Balance was established as a neutral entity, to restore the balance between all the people, hence the name. They took a vow of service, forswearing all loyalty to kin and lo
rd, and ever since then they’ve been in charge of the spring. Nominally they allow the use of the water to anyone who needs healing.”

“Nominally?” Shani asked.

Mior snorted. “Yep. Anyone can use it, provided they pay the right fee.”

“Let
me guess,” I said, “the right fee isn’t capped at three gold pieces?”

“Anything but,” Zash confirmed. “I’m guessing that for a while after the order’s inception the fees were reasonable, but that was centuries ago. These days only the exceptionally rich can afford to use the healing waters.”

“Elves then,” I sneered.

Zash shrugged. “Elves, or rich humans. There are some very rich merchants around. And the king uses the waters for free, of course.”

“Of course,” I muttered. “So what else do you know?”

“I’ve never seen the place, but by all accounts it’s a fortress. It’s situated in an area called The Pillars, and apparently that pretty much describes the area. Lots of sheer granite… well, pillars. The spring is forced up through one of these, and the monastery was built over and around it. The only access point is one bridge across the ravine surrounding it, and the monastery itself goes right up to the edge of the pillar.”

“And it’s warded to buggery,” Mior added. “They have a few sorcerers among their ranks, and I can guarantee you that they’ll have done their job. We can’t expect another easy in and out like at Haster’s place.”

“So it’ll have to be all of us?” Shani asked.

Zash nodded. “We’ll need you both to deal with the wards. Mior can handle the hard stuff, but we’re likely to encounter more than one at a time, and if there’s guards around you’ll need to help him. Rin and I will have to deal with any locks and traps.”

“I know next to nothing ab
out traps though,” I said.

“But you’re getting very good with locks, and I’m expecting us to have to deal with both at the same time,” he said, smiling at me and running his fingers past my cheek.

“So will there be any way in which we can scope this place out beforehand?” I asked.

His smile disappeared and he lifted a shoulder. “I doubt it. There’s no way they’ll even contemplate letting in any half-elves – we couldn’t possibly own enough money to pay for their treatment.”

“So why don’t we get out Lady Aylin and Lady Roniel again?” Shani suggested.

Mior shook his head. “In a place like theirs, I wouldn’t risk a glamour. There are wards that strip illusions like that, and if that happens…”

“We’re screwed,” Zash finished succinctly. “I agree with Mior, no glamour. I think we’ll just have to risk scoping the outside only and then simply try and make our way in.”

“So confident,” I muttered.

“Always, Little Firelocks,” he said with a smile. I smiled back, but couldn’t share his confidence this time. This place sounded far too dangerous for my liking.

“What do they do with all that money that they rake in anyway?” I changed the subject.

“You know, that’s the thing,” Zash said. “No one seems to know. They need to buy their supplies of course, food and clothes and such, since there is no room in the monastery itself to grow anything of their own, but whether that uses up all they earn? Somehow I doubt it.”

“You mean
they could be sitting on a big stack of gold as well as a miracle cure?” Mior asked.

Zash shrugged. “Possibly. It’s not what we’re going in for though, so let’s not get distracted.”

“So,” I said, “basically we go there, look at the place from the outside and then just sneak in at night, hope we’ll manage to pick all the locks, disarm all the traps, deactivate all the wards, find the right room and get out again, all while remaining undetected?”

Zash sighed. “You make it sound so–”

“Difficult?”

“I prefer challenging,” he said with a grin. “Remember, no defeatism. Now let’s get some sleep.”

*   *   *   *   *

A little after that we were cuddled up together, Zash’s hand idly drawing circles around one of my breasts. I was pulling my fingers through his hair in return, but he must have noticed that I was lost in
thought, because he moved his hand to my chin and turned it towards him. “Why the long face? Don’t tell me you’re still worried about the monastery?”

I looked at him and saw nothing but puzzlement, and his lack of concern increased my apprehension. I was certain that my assessment of the situation was realistic, not defeatist, and that we had a near impossible task ahead of us. “Don’t you think I have reason to be? That place disturbs me, Zash. It sounds so… I don’t know, fortified.”

“Exactly, challenging. It should be fun.” His eyes now glittered with excitement and I sighed, lowering my gaze.

“Does nothing ever worry you?” I asked, running my fingers along his chest.

He hesitated only a moment. “About burglaries? No. They’re an adventure, a test of my skills, and the fact that I could get caught only adds to it. This is what I live for, my Little Firelocks. Don’t you?”

My heart leapt up and I kissed him instead of replying, stalling for time while I let it settle again. Wasn’t it enough that he could make my body melt with his touch? Did he have to keep melting my heart as well? His nickname for me had long since ceased to be an annoyance and had become an endearment, but the addition of that one tiny word brought home once more just how much I loved him.

“Not until I met you,” I finally answered. “Before, stealing was just a means to an end.”

“And now it’s exciting?” he asked, slipping his hand back under my tunic.

“Everything with you is exciting,” I sighed, sliding my hand around his shoulders, then down his back to his buttocks. He crooned in his throat and kissed me again, at his leisure but so thoroughly that I was starting to feel dizzy.

“It makes you feel truly alive, doesn’t it?” he murmured. “The danger, the thrill… There’s nothing like it.”

It stung a little, for him to say that while he seemed intent on my body and while my hands were seeking out all his pleasure spots, but then something occurred to me. “So I suppose you didn’t really mind then, when I shopped you to the guards in Mazar?”

He chuckled. “It was unexpected. I was very annoyed, actually, so in that sense I did mind, but it never worried me overmuch. I knew we’d get out. Once I’d calmed down I almost admired you for doing it.”

He seemed to mean it, and I was suddenly embarrassed. “I felt stupid, you know, for coming to fetch you out. I should have known you could get out by yourself.”

“You surprised me, that’s for sure. And you continue to surprise me.” His caresses had become more intimate, more insistent, and it was increasingly difficult to think straight.

“Is that good or bad?” I gasped as he tweaked my nipple.

“Oh, it’s good. It’s very good.” He shifted so he came to rest on top of me and nuzzled my neck, then trailed kisses up to my ear. “It’s good in every possible sense of the word.”

“So if I–” I began, but his mouth closed over mine and silenced me.

“Gods, woman, have you still not learned when to stop talking?” he whispered when he raised his head again. “Haven’t we got something better to do?”

I gave up, relaxed and gave in to him, wrapping my arms around him and spreading my legs. Yet even as he made love to me I couldn’t put his words out of my mind:
I live for this.
It was true for him, much more than it was for me. He enjoyed me, body and company, but he could live without me.

I, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure that I could live without him anymore.

*   *   *   *   *

“Zash, how far is it to the monastery? You never said,” I asked the next morning as we set off.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “We’ll hit the town of Kenizar first; from there we can get a better idea.”

“And how far is Kenizar?”

“Not too far anymore. We might reach it today.”

The landscape had started changing since we left the Whistling Plains, gradually becoming more forested, and by mid-afternoon we were walking through densely packed trees on a narrow road which seemed little used. It was covered in half-rotten leaves, their musty scent pervasive in the gloom, and I could hear squirrels chitter at each other – or maybe at us – as we passed under the overhanging branches.

The environment was reflected in Kenizar, which we reached early in the evening, with houses built of wood and the town surrounded by a wooden palisade rather than stone walls. Kenizar was small, looked poor and stank of decay. I realised why when I saw that every house had a fermenting heap of compost toasting away in the sunlight, ready to be used to fertilise the ubiquitous vegetable gardens. Most houses also had some livestock – a few chickens, or a goat tethered to a post out of reach of the lovingly tended greens. The town may not have been rich in goods, but at least we would eat well.

The people we encountered glanced at us, then ignored us. Most of them were humans, but we saw quite a few half-elves as well, and all of them looked well-fed, with clothes of good quality, even if they were plain and made of undyed homespun.

“Are there no elves in Kenizar?” I asked after a while.

Zash shrugged. “Just the magistrate, I think. This is a bit of a backwater town, so I suppose elves don’t really like it here. Why do you ask?”

“The half-elves,” I replied. “They look so… accepted here. Almost like normal citizens.”

“Half of them are probably the magistrate’s children,” Mior said. “I suppose even for elves it’s a bit much to persecute people if you know you fathered them.”

Zash snorted but didn’t say anything, and Mior shoved at his shoulder. “Stop being such a cynical fuck all the time, Zash. I hate elves as much as you do, but they can’t all be bastards.”

“So you think Kenizar won’t supply any half-elves whenever Sovander is in one of his moods again?” Zash retorted. “You think the magistrate will tell him to go fuck himself? Don’t delude yourself, Mior. Elves are all the same, and the half-elves here are just as much in danger as they are anywhere else in the country.”

It was unusual to see them disagree like that, even if the type of argument was familiar from discussions between Shani and me, and it made me a little uncomfortable to listen to it, so when Mior drew another breath to speak I quickly said, “Isn’t that the directional sign for the rogue tavern?”

Zash looked at where I pointed and smiled at me. “It is indeed, well spotted. Go on, you lead. I’m sure you can get us there from here.”

My distraction seemed to have worked, and I led us directly to the tavern without getting lost. It was small and low, with only four guest rooms, but it also contained an unwelcome surprise in the form of the elf Siander, who got up from his table and approached us the moment we walked through the door.

“Ladies, gentlemen,” he said in his melodic voice. “I was wondering when you might turn up, I was getting bored.”

“Siander,” Zash acknowledged him stiffly, then added, “If you were bored, you should have left. We have no need to talk to you.” His tone was sullen and almost hostile, and I wondered whether that was because of his dislike for the elf, or whether it was still the aftermath of his argument with Mior.

Siander, meanwhile, gave an unpleasant little chuckle. “That’s as may be, but
I
have need to talk to
you
. How have you fared so far? Azerev is growing impatient.”