Temple of the Traveler: Book 02 - Dreams of the Fallen

by Scott Rhine

  “A rare book about history and political intrigue.”

  The woman took a peek in the case and grunted, “Do they actually pay you to read?”

  Jotham considered the question. “Under the terms of my employment I do a great deal of reading, but I confess that I am not being paid for this excursion. I had to come here today or learn to enjoy a prison cell.”

  “I hear that,” muttered the left guard. “The harem is the third door on your right. Jolia will be glad to see you, though. She’s been begging us for some kind of entertainment for months.”

  “Hasn’t the emperor provided her with amusement?” asked Jotham.

  The guard with the bent nose snickered. The other elbowed her and hissed, “You don’t talk about that, Mister. Not here, not ever. Understand?”

  “I’ll be the soul of discretion, madam. In return, I would ask a favor. I was supposed to be gone from this place already. If anyone inquires . . .” the priest said, leading them without technically asking them to lie.

  The pair of guards nodded. “Make Jolia happy, and it’ll be like you left hours ago.”

  Jotham bowed his thanks and went inside. Other guards pursuing him would be misdirected, and these women would never let any men pass, even to search. He could see a back exit at the end of the hall already. However, to keep his word, he stopped off at the harem chamber for what he hoped would be a brief visit.

  A brown-haired woman with brown eyes sat on plush cushions stacking dominoes in a pile. She seemed quite tall, but adequately proportioned. She wore expensive, blue silks draped around her in a way that was more revealing than concealing. She was engaged in building a domino wall along the hill of cushions, with a miniature castle at the top. When Jolia turned to see what the servant was bringing her, her face transformed from dull boredom to excitement. “A guest! Have a seat.”

  Jotham held out a hand to indicate the elaborate model. “I fear I’d cause earthquakes and ruin your palace.”

  The woman stood and flipped the contents of the cushion off onto the floor with a clatter. “We have palaces every day, but never talking. I’m Jolia. Sit.”

  The priest did so. “re a gracious hostess. I am called Jotham the Tenor, and your guards thought I might be able to entertain you.” Her face brightened at this prospect. The eunuch started by showing the concubine another interesting game to play with the black domino tiles. It involved standing them on end and knocking them all over in a chain reaction. When he demonstrated with a few tiles, she clapped her hands with delight. They began making a longer row while chatting.

  The girl was sweet and lonely but the conversation wasn’t very deep. He’d ask a question like, “Why don’t you collect books to read?”

  She’d respond, “Why would I want to ruin my eyesight like that? And the crow’s feet!”

  By the end of the long row of dominoes, they had established a rapport. Jotham said, “If you don’t mind my asking, how did a woman from Mandibos become a lady of the court?”

  Jolia’s eyes moved to the floor in embarrassment. She was ashamed of her anomalous, half-breed nature. “That obvious am I?”

  “My father was from Mandibos. I have some experience in the matter.”

  “You’re lucky your eyes are blue, then.”

  “Really?” In shock, he turned to the mirror on the wall. The concubine was right! In the last passage through the Doors, his brown eye had turned blue, leaving him with a matched set. “Well, people see that every day. You’re exceptional. A lady should never be ashamed of her qualities.”

  “Yeah. Men have been staring at my qualities for years. I made a living of it,” Jolia laughed. “Back when Sandarac was a traveling magician, I was his partner, his assistant for the act.” She lingered on the word ‘partner’ with nostalgia, caressing it fondly like a jade figurine.

  “Traveling sounds interesting. What sort of show?”

  “Some mind reading and sleight of hand, but escape-artist tricks mainly. There wasn’t much real power involved, but he could really work a crowd. I’d distract the audience while he wriggled free. It was fun while it lasted. I know you expected a different sort of magic.”

  Jotham shrugged to indicate he wasn’t judging. “You made people happy. And his skill with the crowd showed the seeds of his true ability, statecraft. That’s illusion and working the crowd on a grander scale. What ended your act?”

  She focused on the black tiles in her slender fingers. “After the Scattering, anyone with the slightest royal blood in them would be held for ransom or eliminated to improve someone else’s claim.”

  “Did he use his skills to escape from this prison?”

  “Yes, he got me a message the first time,” she said. “The Keepers always like to hear that part of the story. I heard that it’s some part of a prophecy that strengthens Sandarac’s claim on the throne.”

  “The first time, you said. There were others?”

  “Three,” she said.

  “Impressive.”

  “But they punished him more each time.” Her face darkened. “Eventuallyagician, Ile to contact the lords of the north and brought him rescue. This position is a reward for my loyalty. But Sandarac’s changed lately. He’s been moody and withdrawn. He never has time to visit me any more.”

  Jotham nodded. “This is all to be expected with his wedding coming up so soon.”

  Jolia’s delicate features froze. “Wedding?”

  “Yes, the bride is arriving by ship any day now.” He stopped when he saw her expression shift from shock to tears. “And he didn’t tell you. Oh, dear. I should leave.”

  “He swore I would be the only one,” she stammered, putting her hands up to her face to cover her shame.

  “The kings probably pressured him into it. He needed an heir from approved stock for the dynasty to have credibility,” Jotham explained.

  Something about the statement made her snort. “That’ll never happen. Damn him! I was good enough to warm his bed for ten years, but not good enough to stand by his side in public.” She clenched her upraised hands into narrow fists. “I won’t let him hide me away in the servants’ wing just to visit when he’s feeling down or needs to hear from someone he can trust, someone who’ll tell him what no one else dares, someone who has stood by him from the beginning.”

  The priest was biting his lower lip. When the woman finished her tirade, she glanced at him. “I’m sorry, good sir. You must think I’m horribly overreacting.”

  Jotham whispered, treading carefully. “Dear woman, you under-react most gravely, I fear. Do you know what the most common gift is for the groom to give to his new bride as a sign of loyalty?”

  Jolia’s fingers went to her own neck, stroking it like a cat. “Oh.”

  “Yes. She rules the harem. Every empress to date has eliminated the chief concubine lest a bastard challenge the reign of her own children.”

  “I told you that couldn’t . . .” She clamped her lips closed, determined to take that particular secret with her to the grave.

  “One of his punishments for escaping?” Jotham guessed.

  Wide-eyed, Jolia asked, “How?” Then she recalled her visitor’s eunuch nature and nodded sagely.

  “My dear, it is precisely because you know that fact that your fate is sealed.”

  Jolia cried for a few moments more, then the resolve that made her the heroine of an empire stanched the flow.

  Jotham asked politely, “Do you know anywhere you could go to be safe?”

  “Not long term, not unless the South wins the war,” Jolia laughed darkly. “But short term I might know of a person, a kind architect who came here often. Lord Simon always answered my questions and let me look at his beautiful drawings. He has the most gorgeous estate overlooking the river about a day’s walk northeast of here. All the nobles want to use him. He could name any price, but he never wants to leave his wife for very long.” She sighed at this. “Wives, they’re a bloody epidemic these days.”

  “We shoul
d gather a fw of your things for the road.”

  Jolia agreed and started to reach for the servant bell. However, he grabbed the rope above her hand and held it firmly until she realized what she was doing. “Right. It’s hard to sneak when you tell everyone. Grab the case off that pillow, and I’ll load up a few things from the next room. We’ll slip out through the garden gate.”

  When she had everything she could grab easily, including a few baubles and toys for later conversion to coin, she put on her servant’s spare cloak and gave her luxurious surroundings one more looking over. “Another illusion over. On to the next town. Good sir, why are you helping me in such a risky venture?”

  Jotham considered for only two or three beats. “You’re the soul of kindness, and the only real good I have found in this maze of deceit. To be frank, I’ve been wanting to escape it myself since the moment I fell into this mess.”

  Jolia smiled. As she departed, she tipped over the first domino in the row they had planted, and the cascade of events started.

  At the exit to the palace pleasure gardens stood the final hurdle, a hand of Somnambulists, standing on each side of the path. The troubles on the Holy Mountain had increased the security measures. The ornate, iron trellis gate was temporarily open, but only because another hand of Somnambulists was departing through it. “How will we pass?” Jolia asked in panic.

  The priest held out one of the string of bells, still attached to his robes. “Just hold this string, and follow me. Don’t speak until we have left the royal quarter.” He shook the bells loudly in a steady rhythm.

  “Do you perform magic?” she whispered.

  The priest did not have time to quibble about the difference between magic and miracles, or the simple application of an opponent’s force against himself. The gate would soon be closing. In truth, Jotham was now probably the most powerful human spell caster she would ever meet, but he had been saving his mana for fourteen years for a very special purpose. He merely laid his finger across his lips and pulled her along briskly.

  With a gentle jingling of bells, the pair escaped the most secure building in the new empire without notice.

  Chapter 12 – Anna of Tamarind

  Back at Tamarind fortress, scouts and eager family members trickled in from Innisport. At first, they rejoiced that the invaders from Bablios had fled. However, they soon learned that the invaders had stolen, butchered, or burned anything of lasting value before leaving. The joy was short-lived. Animals, farmhouses, and crops had been destroyed; it would be a lean year and a leaner campaign. But just as a pole charred in the flames made for a harder spear point, so did the loss of their homes make the men of the Brotherhood of Executioners ache for revenge on their enemies. As they gathered what supplies they could, the dark-skinned guildmaster with the booming voice, Dhagmurna, sent his personal guards and clerk to handle a small but vital assignment.

  Once the transaction was completed, they returned to the guild hall with a twenty-year-old servant girl by the name of Anna. Dhagmurna and the other generals looked at her briefly like a piece of meat. She had short, black hair inexpertly cut with a kitchen knife, and was solidly built without being fat. Anna wore plain, homespun farming trousers and a tunic. Say have been able to pass for a smooth-faced boy if it hadn’t been for her ample breasts. Anna didn’t speak, but her large, brown eyes took in everything. When she saw the hollow man in the corner under the Kragen banner, she knew that dark times were coming to the land.

  After staring wordlessly for several minutes, the Brotherhood elite threw her into an empty grain silo with a solid, oak door until Nerissa could find time to question her. While she waited for her audience with the guildmaster’s wife, Anna rested. She’d been so very tired for so long. It was ironic that only war could have brought her this period of peace. When she woke in the morning, she heard her guard chatting with one of the many delivery men who were bringing supplies into the fortress for the mobilization. The entire town was marching to the capital.

  “They even burned the oat fields. You know what that means,” said the delivery man.

  “No feed for the animals?” replied the guard.

  “No oatmeal-stout beer for the festival. Worse, the Babliosians took all the ale from the brewery before they left.”

  “The bastards! They’ll pay.”

  “So you have a dangerous deserter inside there?” asked the local tradesman.

  “Nah, just some slave House Kragen wanted. Even ruined, Brewmaster Strenk didn’t want to sell her. He said she was too important to his operation. Seems she learned about brewing from her grandfather, Zgetti. I heard she also keeps an eye on the books.”

  “Zgetti Ale? That was good stuff. Smooth.”

  “Zgetti was Strenk’s chief competitor.”

  “What happened?”

  The guard lowered his voice. “When their whole family was ordered killed by the kings for following the old religion, no one wanted to kill the women. Besides, killing a brewer is bad luck. So we sold them as bond slaves. It’s a loophole that we’re allowed to use for non-combatants. Strenk made the highest offer.”

  “Who turned them in for worshipping the old way?”

  “Strenk,” answered the guard.

  “Figures. Why did he sell?” Anna may have been deluding herself, but something sounded familiar about the voice.

  “Dhagmurna paid the original seven gold weeks for her contract and mentioned that the Shadow of Kragen would come calling if he refused.”

  “Hey, the year of Freedom starts in a couple months. Those slaves go free on the seventh year. Isn’t it illegal to resell a bond servant that close to Emperor’s Day?”

  “Those are the old ways, friend. In war, laws get overlooked. Understood? Besides, if her boyfriend doesn’t come across with the goods, she’s not going to live that long.”

  The delivery man had other loads to take care of and begged off. After the voices stopped, Anna shriveled in the darkness, lonelier than ever.

  Lady Nerissa called for her shortly after the evening meal. When Anna arrived in Nerissa’s office, the busy woman offered her a cup of tea from the softly steaming set on her desk. The prisoner licked her lips and took one of the leftover dinner rolls filled with bits of meat. After Anna helped herself to a second roll, Nerissa began asking questions. The lady wore leather armor, but had her hair arranged prettily. “We know you met Baran Togg when he came into your owner’s ale shop. Why did you favor him over all the others who came through those doors? I’ve heard he’s handsome in the right clothes, but so are many other young soldiers.”

  Anna considered this and replied in a gentle tone. “He was sad and kind—the sober one who’d always offer to help me clean up.”

  Looking at the plain girl, Nerissa asked, “And what drew him to you?”

  Anna wanted to explain that she still followed the old ways and didn’t act like a whore. The guildmaster’s wife respected neither. Instead, she simply kept her mouth shut and shrugged.

  The Guildmaster’s wife had little time remaining. They had to march by morning or lose their advantage. “Do you know why he disobeyed our direct order to surrender?”

  With eyes lowered, Anna said, “He’s stubborn sometimes, ask his father. You didn’t try to pay him off, did you? He gets touchy about ethical issues.”

  Nerissa examined her notes. “We spoke to his father, the honored armorer. He showed us a signed document from this criminal disowning his family and denying all claim to an inheritance.”

  A faint smile flickered on the girl’s face. “There wouldn’t have been much to inherit as the seventh son. Baran did that for me. He wanted to buy out my bond contract early. His father would only give him the money if he signed that paper.”

  “Yet you’re not free,” observed the military woman.

  Anna focused on the floor. She held back tears. She refused to do any more crying on this subject. “Strenk refused. Baran put the money in the brotherhood bank and willed it to me. He wanted no
part of it. His only hope was to volunteer for dangerous missions in order to get the big bounties or a boon. He had enough saved on the side for his own forge already. He was going to make his shop big enough for a cooper, too, so that I could have good oaken kegs.”

  “I’m sorry to say, those funds have been confiscated. We’re your only hope of surviving now. This smith abandoned his unit and stole valuable property from the Kragen family. He’s a rebel and an embarrassment to his people. You will help us bring him in.”

  Anna refreshed the Lady’s cup of tea before continuing. “I’m honor bound to serve you in any legitimate fashion. But why would you think I could sway him?”

  “Because he sent you a letter from the Great Library saying that he was going off to war in the North. He enclosed a legal document transferring everything he owns to you. He’s also released you from your engagement vow,” said Nerissa. Before Anna could react to Baran’s contorted profession of love and the Brotherhood’s violation of that intimacy, there was a knock at the door, demanding the lady’s attention.

  While harsh words were exchanged in the hall, Anna listened discretely. During the exchange, one phrase kept surfacing: the Defender of the Realm. Something had ben stolen from House Kragen. Baran must be holding the fabled sword of the emperor’s right hand.

  Anna knew what she had to do. She’d escape at the first opportunity.

  When Lady Nerissa returned, she asked a series of odd and embarrassing questions. Where did he want to buy the forge? Did Baran ask her to wear boy’s clothing? What sorts of things did they talk about after intercourse? When Anna blushed and explained that there’d never been sex, Nerissa stared at her. After a moment, she decided to believe the girl and sent her back to the silo.