Burning Bright

by Megan Derr

  Chapter Twelve: Priest of Ashes

  "Where in the fires did that idiot go?" Ivan groused. "He's the next sacrifice. If they catch him—"

  "If we stay, they will catch us and at some point may think to use us against him," Ailill said. "Leave him for now; we need to go."

  Ivan grimaced but listened because Ailill was right. They would be of no help to anyone if they just got locked up again. Silently signaling his men, he followed Ailill out of the dungeon—but not, he noted, the same way he and his men had arrived. He didn't ask questions, however, just kept going until Ailill stopped in front of the high wall at the back of what looked ominously like the execution yard back in the Heart. "Over and down, I take it?" Ivan asked, stifling a sigh because climbing walls at thirty-five was not what it had been at twenty-five.

  "Over and down," Ailill confirmed—and then nearly startled Ivan into a shout when he abruptly shifted, half-hidden by a cloud of misty, shimmering light. Ivan blinked and stared hard, at the enormous white cat beside him. It growled and then turned and padded away only to turn back around and launch itself up the wall.

  "I really wish I could do that," Luka said. "It looks so much easier." Sighing, he motioned to the others and they all obediently climbed. Ivan followed only after they were all safe, leaping neatly down to the ground on the other side.

  Ailill shifted back and cocked his head. "We should hasten back to the city as quickly as possible before more guards arrive to find the ones we left unconscious."

  Ivan did not bother to reply, simply took off jogging back toward the city with his men around him and Ailill keeping pace right beside him. By the time they reached the city wall, Ivan was ready to fall down and sleep wherever he landed. "Do I have to go over another wall?" he groused, but didn't wait for anyone to give him a flippant reply, just approached the wall. "Wait here," he called over his shoulder. "I'll clear any guards."

  Climbing the wall, he looked around carefully then turned and dropped to the street below. When he was certain the coast was clear, he gave a short, sharp whistle. A couple of minutes later, Ailill appeared once more in the form of a cat. He leaped down beside Ivan and sat back on his haunches, rumbling low while they waited for the others to join them.

  Shifting back, Ailill said, "Come on, you can all pile into my room for the night." They did not speak again until they had crept into the inn through the back door, and then up to Ailill's room at the end of the hall.

  His men promptly stretched out across every available bit of floor and within minutes were fast asleep. Ivan shook his head in amusement and sat down on the edge of the bed in the middle of the room to remove his boots. "Should I shove one of the men out of the way and find a bit of floor?" he asked lightly.

  "Nah," Ailill said, mouth quirking. "If the guards come in, your side of the bed is closer to the door. They'll see you first."

  Ivan laughed, discarded his sword, daggers, cloak, and outer tunic, and then stretched out on the bed and did not protest when Ailill pressed back against him. Closing his eyes, he fell asleep to the faint trace of flowers that lingered in Ailill's hair.

  *~*~*

  "So what are you going to do now?" Ivan asked while he finished bathing and toweled off with the drying cloth the staff had left. Luka had found him some clean clothes, thank the fires, because he was sick of smelling his old ones. The new ones still smelled like soap, and Ivan pulled them on with a happy sigh. When he had pulled on his boots, he carried his sword belt to the table where Ailill was having breakfast and helped himself to some tea and a slice of bread smothered with butter and honey.

  Ailill licked honey from his own lips and said, "I need to return home and hand over the comb, but the ceremony is two years away yet so I still have time. This was the last piece I needed to collect. I suppose after I deliver the comb, I will have to adapt to being a proper duke—whatever that entails." He smiled crookedly, and Ivan had the impression he was mocking himself.

  "You do seem pleasantly unconventional," he said. "If you're ever in Pozhar again, your grace, feel free to say hello."

  "I will," Ailill said, and he smiled in a way that Ivan actually believed him. Interesting that someone who had no reason to whatsoever would actually seek him out again.

  Then Ailill's smile changed, and Ivan conceded it might not have been for absolutely no reason, and he was more than fine with that as well. He didn't keep lovers long, and had no interest in doing so, but he liked the ones who were worth returning to now and again. He hadn't had one of those in a long time—one had gone to the noose, the other to the wedding noose.

  Ailill stood up and moved around the table. "Your men went out to find Raz. Said they'd report back, but wanted to let you sleep."

  Ivan rolled his eyes at that, but the jest he was going to make about his men was forgotten when Ailill knelt between his legs, pushing them apart and bending his head to nuzzle at Ivan's cock, which was quickly hardening in his breeches. "I think I've had enough sleep."

  "Good," Ailill murmured and quickly tugged Ivan's breeches open and wrapped his mouth around Ivan's cock.

  Though he was absolutely certain there were other things they needed to be doing, Ivan had no interest in them. His only concern right then was fisting his hands in Ailill's long, soft hair and fucking his mouth as hard as Ailill could take—and Ailill never disappointed on that front.

  It did not take him long to come, though he tried to make the feel of that hot, wet mouth last and relish Ailill's throat working his cock. When he was finally spent, Ailill pulled off and rose up to kiss him, sloppy and wet, giving Ivan a taste of himself in Ailill's warm, sweet mouth. Ivan groaned, sank his hand into the hair at Ailill's nape, and used his other hand to work on the laces of Ailill's breeches. Fisting Ailill's cock, gripping it as tightly as he knew Ailill liked, Ivan stroked him off hard and fast, never relenting on the hard, hungry, biting kisses. When Ailill finally came in his hand, Ivan eased up slightly, lapping at Ailill's abused lips. "Blessing of the morning."

  "Indeed," Ailill said, drawing back and reaching for his napkin to clean up with, eyes more on the way Ivan was idly licking his own hand clean. "A pity we don't have time for more. I thought to save Raz, perhaps take him with me."

  Ivan shrugged. "That is up to him. I will not go out of my way to interfere with the sacrifice—again—but I cannot just abandon Raz either. If he chooses to run, I will not stop him. And I will completely contradict myself by interfering enough to find those sea-bitches and slit their traitorous throats. You find Raz, and I will focus on the mermaids."

  Standing up, he strapped and buckled all of his weapons into place, and then went to the bed to retrieve his cloak from the floor beside it. "Did Luka say they would be coming back here?"

  "They said they'd meet you in the usual place. Can I ask where that is?"

  "The pavilion—a table by the sausage cart. Very good sausage." Ivan winked and led the way out of the room and down to the street. "It's handy in situations like this, because no one ever looks for you in a crowd." They walked briskly through the streets, avoiding the early morning bustle of people running errands and opening their shops for the day's trade.

  When they reached the pavilion in front of the rather sad-looking Cathedral of Ashes, the food stalls were already surrounded by customers. Most of them were from the surrounding villages, stopping in town to run errands. High above, the heavy winter clouds promised there would soon be snow, and the bite in the air promised it would be a very unpleasant snow.

  Pulling up the hood of his cloak to both ward off the chill and keep anyone from getting a good look at his face, Ivan bought a cup of hot mulled wine off a vendor and then strode to the table where they nearly always met in times of trouble. Three people already occupied it, but a few words from Karp and Gleb sent them on their way. Ivan took his usual seat, sipping at the mulled wine as Ailill sat down next to him. "This is pretty good," Ailill commented.

  "You needn't sound so surprised, your grace," Ivan
said, looking at him in amusement.

  Ailill laughed. "I am not usually much for spiced wine, but I did not feel like fighting through the crowd around the beer stalls. I think Pozhar should give Piedre lessons on how to do spiced wine. Then again, it's already potent; making it easier to drink might be a mistake."

  Chuckling, Ivan sipped at his own wine. "Did you ever hear back from Sasha?"'

  "This morning, actually," Ailill said. "He said he could not come, that such a curse, as he understood, was beyond his knowledge. But your curse is definitely gone; the men said that the High Priest healed you?"

  Ivan nodded. "Yes, he did. Lord Krasny was the one who first noticed it, however. They seemed to know who had put it there, if I correctly read their silent little exchange. Makes me wonder what they're going to do and very grateful I typically have nothing to do with all those scorching nobles."

  "No interest in nobles, hmm?" Ailill asked. "Here I thought you were rather pleased with my noble endeavors."

  "Just so long as you're not asking me to tea," Ivan replied.

  "I try to avoid going to tea myself."

  Ivan snorted, attention on the crowd and paying particular attention to the guards—both those in uniform and those trying to look like ordinary citizens. As if he could not mark an imposter. No one seemed to be paying him any mind, but there were definitely more guards in the pavilion than was normal. "I think they're looking for us."

  "No doubt they're mostly interested in Raz," Ailill replied. "Though I guess we do not need to worry too much about that until the Vessel hunters appear. Where do you think Raz went?"

  "If he's smart, he won't be in the Heart, but chances are he's trying to find Shio and Shinju and determine whether or not we lied." Ivan grimaced. "He is going to get himself in trouble if he does that, but that never stopped Raz. He was right in the middle of trouble when I met him. Got him out of it; he did a job for free. He's been worth consulting ever since, but he's flammable."

  Ailill lifted his eyes to the sky. "Indeed. Highly flammable, according to the High Priest."

  Ivan winced. "Not what I meant." He finished his wine and rose. "Going for another, want anything?"

  "I'll take a second; it keeps the cold at bay. Going to get closer to those guards?"

  Smiling briefly in reply, Ivan headed toward the wine vendor and wedged himself into the crowd around it until he was standing behind a trio of guards. Though they did not conveniently say anything useful, the fact they talked about nothing but the whores they'd enjoyed the night before was somewhat reassuring.

  He waited until they'd bought their wine and vanished into the crowded pavilion, and then made his own purchases and headed back to Ailill. "So when does the next ship for Verde depart?"

  "No time soon," Ailill replied. "I will probably just take a ship to Piedre and either travel by land from that point or take a ship there if one happens to be headed up the coast. Piedre is about the only country Verde still trades with, mostly because Verde is entirely too addicted to wine."

  "I see," Ivan said, mouth curving in amusement. "I've never left Pozhar myself. A pity, but the potential profit does not outweigh the danger."

  "I think you'd do quite well—assuming you did not run afoul of the mermaids, but rumor has it they have calmed down in the past year ever since that massive storm to the south. I certainly did not encounter any on my trip here, and I usually see them at least once a journey."

  Ivan sneered and drained his mug and set it down with a thunk on the table. "The only mermaids that concern me are the two that attacked my men without cause and broke a promise. If they are very lucky, my men will not find them—but no one has ever been that lucky when I am looking to settle a disagreement."

  "I am beginning to appreciate why exactly they call you and your men wolves. How did you get into the mercenary business?"

  Surprised by the question, it took Ivan a moment to voice the answer. "By accident, mostly. My father owned a shop over on Tanners Row. Did good business, but not great. I took to picking up odd jobs here and there to supplement our income. After he died, I wasn't able to keep running the shop alone. I took more and more to the odd jobs, picked up work that was increasingly dangerous. I met Luka during one job; he helped me and stuck around. We picked up the others as we went."

  "Sounds like a very watered down version of a very interesting story," Ailill said. "A tanner, huh? No place for those in Verde. I—" He broke off, nodded just past Ivan's shoulder. "I believe that is a very smug looking Isidor headed our way."

  Ivan didn't bother to turn around, just waited. A couple of minutes later, Isidor slid into the space next to him on the bench. "Hey, boss. We managed to catch a couple of nice ones on our fishing trip. Want to come look them over, maybe suggest how we cook them?"

  "I would love to," Ivan said and stood up, following Isidor across the pavilion with Ailill close on his heels.

  Isidor led them to the section of the Heart that was comprised mostly of whore houses and dingy cafes, a few pawn shops, and a particularly derelict theatre that stayed in business mostly because of the after curfew shows that featured plenty of actors, but very little clothes or acting.

  Slipping down the narrow space between two houses, Isidor wrapped on the back door then pushed it open and led the way inside. Ivan saw a large woman standing just off to the side and kissed her cheek. "Staying warm, Mina?"

  "Warm enough," Mina said. "I see you've taken good care of my boy."

  "Luka takes care of himself," Ivan said, smiling faintly. "Thank you for letting us work here."

  Mina waved him off. "Get along, then. I've got customers to see to—and keep it quiet!"

  Laughing, Ivan lifted a hand in acknowledgement and followed Isidor down the steps at the back of the storeroom and into the basement. Dried fruit and herbs hung from the ceiling, and the room was mostly filled with barrels, casks, boxes, and sacks. Mina's house did not look like much, but there was always good food and better whores to be had.

  They crossed the overstuffed basement to a door in the back where Ivan found the rest of his men—and Shio and Shinju tied up and secured to iron rings in the wall. "Blessing of the midday, sea-bitches. I believe we have a score to settle."

  Shio sneered at him, tossing her hair. "You have no idea what you have become involved in, fire child. Stay out of it."

  "Fire child," Ivan repeated, growing angry. "Yes, that's exactly what I am: a child of Pozhar. You are children of Kundou—unwanted children, at that. You have no scorching business interfering in the matters of Pozhar. Yet here you are helping the Vessel hunters. Why? Raz trusted you and because of him we trusted you, and you betrayed all of us. If you think we're irritating, wait until Raz finds out I was telling the truth about you handing Pechal over to the High Priest. He'll set you on fire quite literally."

  Shinju sneered. "Fire this, fire that."

  "We are called fire children for a reason," Lark said from where he leaned against the far wall just behind Ivan, arms crossed over his chest. "Fire is very useful for purposes good and bad."

  "Yet not a one of you ever questions the most important fire in your country. You just accept that the Sacred Fires do what the High Priest claims."

  Ivan stared at them, completely lost. "What are you talking about?"

  "The Sacred Fires into which you toss your sacrifices—"

  "Douse it!" Ivan snarled. "No one does any tossing, and I have no qualms about breaking your bones if you don't show more respect. The Vessels die for the people of Pozhar; they don't get tossed around anywhere."

  The mermaids recoiled, clearly taken aback by his vehemence. But Ivan meant every word. Whatever his opinion on the matter, whatever anyone's opinion on the matter, the Vessels deserved respect. "So what is your problem with the Sacred Fires, then?" Ivan asked.

  "Doesn't anyone in this storming country think it's a bit odd that you're killing a god of rebirth by throwing him into the Fires he created?" Shio asked. "I may be young for a mermaid
, but we remember things better and hold on to them longer."

  Luka stepped forward, looming, hands at his side, ready and willing to start a fight. "What are you blathering about, fish?"

  "She is saying that we remember the tales the Great Mother told us," Shinju replied quietly. "Of the nine gods, only the Dragons, the Firebird, and Holy Licht kept priests—avatars to be the bond and bridge between the gods and their children: the Priest of Storms, also called the Eye of the Storm; the Priest of Ashes, Guardian of the Sacred Fires; the Priest of Night and Day, the most powerful Seer in the world. They were sorcerers of incredible power and, by all accounts, good friends."

  Gleb shifted impatiently, fingers twitching where they loosely gripped the hilt of his daggers. "We didn't come here for a history lesson. We came here to skin a couple of fish."

  "The Priest of Ashes was called Dym," Shinju snapped. "Don't you think that's a little strange?"

  Ivan opened his mouth, but then closed it again. If he had been confused before, he was completely lost at that point. "I don't actually think it's all that strange for priests to name themselves after favorites, or even least favorites. You're trying to convince me that, what, the current High Priest is a reincarnation of the original Dym?"

  "No, he is the original Dym."

  Ivan and his men promptly burst out laughing, and even Ailill seemed mostly amused. "That isn't possible," Ailill said. "That he is a reincarnation and reborn now when the Vessel hunts are nearly at an end, I am willing to believe. But that he is the very same man from over nine hundred years ago? That is impossible; only the gods can grant immorality. The Priest of Ashes died back when Holy Zhar Ptitsa was killed. What does any of this have to do with anything?"

  "We were sent by our father to protect the Vessels because there is someone who does not want the ceremony to reach completion. The Vessels must go to the Sacred Fires."

  Karp unfolded his arms and stepped closer, joined by Maksim and Ferapont. "They're talking about whoever tried to curse you, I bet," Karp said. "We still don't know who it is."