“I have an important private message from Priest Loganin.” Frostel handed the old man the piece of paper.
“Do you now?” The old man’s tone of voice immediately changed. “Come with me, and we will discuss this before my Lord Mairen.” The old man shuffled over to a building on the north side of the temple complex. With a practiced motion, Brinolf unlocked the door to the temple and ushered the two men inside. The far end of the building was filled with statues, all holding weapons of various shapes and sizes. As the priest lit several candles, Sir Ako could see that all of the statues were painted: most were yellow, but some were black, and a few were red. Brinolf, turned to Frostel and asked, “Who is your companion this evening?”
“He is Sir Ako, the Kelten opmi, leader of the Knights of Serica.”
“I know of you, Opmi. Welcome to the Temple of Mairen Pal. Let me read my compatriot’s note a second time.” Holding the note up close to the candle flame, he read carefully. “There is more going on than this note says. I may be old and my ears are stuffed with cotton, but I have followers who have eyes as sharp as knives. My young friends tell me things. Late this afternoon, a rumor came to me that an important man’s daughter was kidnapped. My guess is your presence is connected to this rumor. Why else are two of the greatest warriors standing in my shrine as the curfew bell sounds out across the city? To you, Blue Frostel, I say: Why should I care? Why should I lift a finger to help you?”
“I worship Mairen Pal just as I worship Temo Tio.”
“I have no doubt you do. But what of the man, this important man whose daughter has gone missing? Why should I care about him? If he is wealthy, he likely pays homage to Domlod the Golden. If he is seeking what they call spiritual merit, he worships Eston, flaunting his donations to his favored temple. And if he is an official in the government, he certainly prays to the Great Sage and no one else. Why should I care about the troubles of such men? They care nothing for my god. Now, if one of my followers were affected, say one of General Erdis’s daughters, that would be different. But that’s not who was taken, is it? No.”
“It’s the right thing to do. Mairen Pal always sought justice.”
“I wonder if justice is on your side. I wonder if Lord Mairen would hear your story and say, Yes, I must help. Tell me the whole truth of this matter, and I will judge.”
“Very well. War Minister Boethy’s daughter was abducted in the south-central market today. Probably by a follower of Hesmoro, perhaps a member of Squinty Pejak’s criminal gang. Know that I have a personal obligation to the war minister stemming from the Northern Expedition.”
“As do I,” Sir Ako said in his deep voice.
Brinolf looked at the two of them and then turned and knelt before the statue of Lord Mairen, which was nearly invisible in the gloom. He chanted strange words, which Sir Ako could not make out, and then fell silent. After a minute of prayer, the old priest took two oddly shaped pieces of wood—they looked like shoe lathes for someone with deformed feet—and then dropped them three times on the floor. Brinolf grunted as he picked up the wooden blocks and then, with a faint groan, he sat down on the step below the prayer railing, facing them.
“Arno Boethy’s daughter is taken. This is a hard case for me, as there lies old history between Boethy and myself, a story that stretches back twenty-five years past, though perhaps he has forgotten. But Lord Mairen has spoken to me. You have the right of it, Blue Frostel. Boethy is the war minister and without doubt, one of the greatest generals of this age. My personal feelings must be set aside. I serve my god and I believe I know what Mairen Pal wants. I will help you.”
He stood with effort, his joints creaking in the silent room.
“Follow me.”
He went to the priests’ quarters and knocked on a door. A short man with an ugly, pockmarked face opened it. He was visibly nervous at the sight of Frostel and Ako standing behind Brinolf.
“What do you want?” he said sullenly.
“Rektava, come with me. Bring your key.”
Heaving an exaggerated sigh in response to Brinolf’s command, the short priest hung a key around his neck and followed the older priest to a different shrine within the temple.
“The shrine of Hesmoro,” Frostel whispered to Ako.
After Rektava fumbled with the lock for several moments, it opened with a sharp clank and the four men walked into the shrine. This room was also filled with statues; apparently Hesmoro was the large god in the center, flanked by other figures to either side and with a line of slightly smaller attendants holding the front rank. It seemed like Hesmoro needed significant spiritual protection.
“Rektava, a terrible mistake has been made by some of the followers of Hesmoro,” Brinolf said.
“That would be the first time such a thing has ever happened in all the years I have served here,” Rektava replied sardonically.
“You will tell me everything you know about Squinty Pejak and his gang. You can start with how many are there and where they are hiding.”
Rektava chuckled hollowly. “Not a chance. I’ve never even heard…”
Before he finished speaking, Brinolf slapped him hard across his face. “Don’t toy with me, boy! You will tell me what I want to know. What these fine men want to know. Now.”
Rektava looked up with pain in his eyes. “You are a mean old bastard. Why are you helping these people? Why?”
“You don’t get to ask me why, ’Tava. I’m old and I’m ruthless, and you don’t get to question me. I know where the bodies are buried.” At this, the old man turned his head and stared at the stone plinth under the statues of the gods.
All the blood seemed to drain from Rektava’s face. “You wouldn’t,” he whispered.
“My mind is failing, but I haven’t forgotten. You thought you would get away with it. How long has it been? Fifteen years? Eighteen? Now I’ve come to collect on that old debt. Tell me about Squinty Pejak, or I go to the magistrate tomorrow and bang on the fish in front of his house with a tale about an old crime, long unsolved.”
“Fuck you, old man! Fuck you for telling these men. Now I’ll be in a pit of pigshit no matter what I do. Fuck.” Rektava sat and put his head in his hand. Not looking up at them, he said, “All right. But you have to kill them all. If even one of them lives, Pejak’s gang will spread the word that I ratted them out, and they’ll come for me. And getting rid of them won’t be easy. They are soldiers, tough men, and desperate.”
“I command tough men,” Sir Ako said. “And kidnapping a young woman is a capital offense, is it not? Things don’t look good for Squinty’s gang.”
Rektava sighed and then spoke in a low voice. “Look, I don’t know exactly where the Pejak gang is hiding out. South of here, somewhere in exile town…where the old exiles from other cities live, close to the Water Road Gate. For last five days a member of Pejak’s gang comes here to pray. Regular like the noon drum, but a different man each time. But I know them.”
Brinolf said, “You will point out the next gang member when he comes, and then he will be followed. These fine warriors will kill them, and the girl will be rescued. No one will be the wiser. How many did you say there were?”
Rektava snorted. “Six, there are six of them. But…everyone will know you came here.”
“No one will know who killed them. Other people will get the credit. Hired investigators. The kidnappers left clues. One of them wore a green belt.”
Rektava’s eyes widened. “Now there is a man with rotten cheese where his brain should be. I bet I know who that was. He wears it often, calls it his lucky belt. Yes, they could have been followed after the…event. The sooner you get them, the less suspicion will fall on me. Come here early tomorrow, and I’ll point out the gang member when he comes.”
“We aren’t going anywhere,” Ako said. “We will stay here tonight. Just to make sure no one takes it in their heads to leave to
wn.”
“Squinty’s gang…they might change locations to throw investigators off the scent…they might not come back to this temple…I don’t know what they will do tomorrow.” Rektava’s objections came out as a whine.
“They will come back. Lord Mairen and all the other gods will see that they receive their due reward.” Brinolf spoke with such an icy voice that even Ako was momentarily taken aback.
Frostel drew Sir Ako aside and told him to go home. “I think we have done well this night. Now we must wait and prepare to follow the gang member when he shows up tomorrow. If there are six members, then we need more people on this job to make sure no additional harm comes to the war minister’s daughter. I will make sure Rektava does not run away. I suggest you acquaint young Lathe with the news and have him go to tell the war minister what we have discovered.”
“What do you think of Brinolf?” Ako asked.
“I’ve known other men like him,” Frostel said quietly. “They believe there are few correct ways to live and that the people who do not follow the correct path are of little worth. I myself believe there are many ways to lead a righteous life and that my chosen path is just one of several noble paths. But since Brinolf says Mairen Pal tells him to help us, that is like a sworn oath. I’ll be safe here tonight.”
Ako agreed. The gate warden, muttering complaints under his breath, let him out, and Lathe soon made his presence known by a distinctive whistle. The two knights walked together through the narrow and now-empty streets, talking in low voices.
“I can’t believe soldiers would dare to kidnap a minister’s daughter,” Lathe said. “Weren’t they paid at the conclusion of the campaign? There is fighting on the border with Vasvar even in the middle of winter and a constant demand for more men to join the Red Crane Army. Surely that is safer than kidnapping? I just can’t believe it.”
“I can. Sandun tells me that Lord Vaina is pressed for coin,” Sir Ako replied. “Kunhalvar salt notes are steadily losing their value. Although we won the Battle of Devek and Nilin Ulim’s army is scattered, we didn’t capture his supplies or any of his silver. A government without money is a government in name only, and eventually, it will be every man for himself.”
Outside the Kelten embassy they parted ways, with Lathe going on to meet with Valo Peli and explain matters.
Inside the embassy, Ako mounted the stairs to his room. Although it was after midnight, Russu was still awake, a small oil lamp lit next to their bed.
“Where have you been?” she said in Kelten. It took no special skill to see she was annoyed and unhappy. He disrobed while he told her the whole story. She responded in a fashion that surprised him.
“Well, that’s at an end. You solved his problem like you solve everyone else’s problems.”
“No, I’m going back tomorrow. The girl is not rescued yet.”
“Husband, why are you involved? This isn’t your problem any longer. The war minister can take care of it.”
“No, he asked me to help, and I’m not finished.”
“That’s not what you just said. You said he asked you to obtain that Kulkasen Frostel’s aid, which you have done. You aren’t Serice. What do you know of the men of the road, as they are called here in Serica? What do you know of the secret gangs of Tokolas? Do you think you can follow a wary kidnapper to his hideout unnoticed? You are dreaming, my husband. Trust me, you stick out as though you carried the flag of Rakeved on your back.”
Russu stretched out on the bed, putting her arms over her head as she continued. “Abductions of young women were once quite common in Rakeved. In the old days, many marriages resulted from abductions. Songs tell of these very romantic escapades, the young woman swept off her feet by a dashing man on horseback, taken to his family estate where his mother and sisters extol the man’s virtues and swear by all the ekonistars that he loves the girl. The man himself sings songs outside her room telling her he will die if she goes back to her family. More often than not, the woman agrees to the marriage, and they live happily ever after.”
“Russu, Alina was kidnapped for money, not by some unhappy suitor.”
“Well, that’s what Lathe says, but how does he know? Lathe has a warped view of Boethy’s daughter and women in general because so many women throw themselves at his feet because he’s so…I don’t know the word for it in Serice. Not two months after Alina rejected him, he’s consoling himself in the arms of Minister Momen’s daughter.”
Ako couldn’t refrain from chuckling. Staring at Russu’s flushed face, he said, “I’m surprised you know about that. In Kelten, we would call him a lady-killer. I really must see that he marries before he brings disrepute to the Knights of Serica. But that’s neither here nor there. Valo Peli’s daughter has been taken, and I owe it to the man to see her safe.”
Russu sat up and put out her fingers of her left hand, counting them off while she spoke. “First, a group of assassins came into this building to kill Boethy and likely everyone else, but you defeated them. Second, a treacherous cook and his conspirators tried to kill Boethy again and all of us with poisoned soup, but Sandun and Basil obtained the antidote. Third, you and the knights went north and fought three battles against the Kitran, winning all of them. And after this, Boethy is appointed minister of war and hailed as the victor of one of the greatest battles in Serica’s history. I don’t see how you owe him anything! I think he owes you—two or three times over.”
Ako looked at his wife and sighed. “You weren’t there, my sweet. He won that battle. We helped, to be sure, but he won it as certain as the day is long. And he went with us into Kemeklos, a city on fire, to help rescue Sandun. The smoke and heat nearly killed him, but he went anyway. Valo Peli is a great man, and it is an honor for me to help him. But you are right about some things: I can’t trail a Serice criminal back to his hideout. That’s a job for people who can blend into a crowd, like Lord Vaina’s spymaster and his agents. Maybe I can be there for the rescue, once the building has been found. Perhaps not even that.”
Ako paused to consider his wife’s words, and then he veered off on a different tack. “Is there something you’d like to do tomorrow? Something that must be done the day before the New Year?”
“There is,” she said with a satisfied expression. “I want to see the circus and afterward, the fireworks! There will fireworks after the show because of the New Year, and I want to see them. Last year, I could only hear the noise from Uncle Vepsailin’s house. This year, I want to see them with my own eyes. Serice fireworks to celebrate the New Year are famous in Rakeved.”
“Very well, I’ll take you to the circus tomorrow, and we will see the famous fireworks of Serica together. I’ll just let Valo Peli know that I’m available to help with the final stage of the rescue.”
“Good!” Russu said happily. She opened her arms and drew him close to her. “This New Year will be wonderful!”
The following morning, Russu woke Sir Ako up. She entered the room with a bowl of steaming black liquid on a tray; it smelled terrible, like an old shoe boiled in artichoke crowns. “Time for your medicine,” she said.
“Hurin’s spear! Is this the medicine you’ve been taking about? It smells ghastly.”
“Where is the man who has slain one hundred warriors? Don’t tell me he cares about how healing herbs smell? As we say in Rakeved, good medicine does not taste good.”
Ako had grown up with the same sort of expression in Kelten: bitter physic, strong remedy. Putting aside his doubts, he lifted the bowl and sipped. Russu’s herbal brew tasted no better than it smelled.
Russu encouraged him to drink. “It’s good for you, husband. Speeds healing, balances your vital energy, relieves aches. Serice herbalists are famous in all the lands. Doctor Haz mixed this for me himself just yesterday, while you were out.”
Sir Ako promptly drained the bowl. It could be worse, he told himself. He had drunk a vinegar wine o
nce, stolen from the back of his father’s wine cellar when he was a young lad. Drinking that foul swill had put him off wine for an entire year.
He bounded from the bed and strode naked over to the dresser where he kept a bottle of fortified wine ready. He took a mouthful and swished it around his teeth. Russu came up to him and touched him playfully. “See, it’s working already…” She undid her robe and let it slide off her body onto the floor.
This was a suitable reward for drinking the herbal concoction, Ako thought, as he picked up his princess and carried her back to bed.
Shortly after the second bell, Sandun arrived at the embassy. Miri was with him. They had just gotten off the boat with Lord Vaina, back from their inspection tour of Sasuvi.
Ako, feeling fine after his wife’s ministrations, briefed Sandun on the previous day’s events. Sandun sat in the library as he considered Ako’s words.
“I may be of some use in this matter,” he said. “Though Valo Peli doubtless has his own plan set in motion. He must be worried sick about Alina’s safety. I don’t know, but maybe it’s good news that the most likely culprit is a gang of former soldiers looking for ransom. Valo Peli knows the Ministry of War has been a hotbed of corruption for the last year, if not longer. He is slowly replacing the bad officials with more honest men, but he can’t afford to alienate existing suppliers. The personal connections some of these officials have formed are very important. What a mess!”
Sandun then switched topics. “By the way, you and Russu are invited to Lord Vaina’s residence tomorrow afternoon and evening. It will be a grand affair. Two of his wives will dance, and I think the Lady Eun will play some music. Elegant dress is required. This Serice New Year celebration should be quite memorable.”
“I’ll tell Russu, and then I’ll go with you to talk to Valo Peli, if you don’t mind my company.”
The Flame Iris Temple Page 17
