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

by Scott Rhine

  Both Tashi and the Shadow stopped struggling.

  Taking a clear brick from her pouch with her good hand, she slid it between the combatants. “Be free.” Tumberlin vanished like smoke, sucked into the clean glass from the City of the Gods. Most of Tashi’s armor links turned transparent, with a few light-gray swirls decorating the surface. He gasped with relief, and passed out from the repeated extremes. Steam rose from the blackened brick. The smell was terrible.

  Sarajah slumped backward.

  Sophia signed, “T-h-a-n-k you.”

  “Yes, good of you to come back,” said the architect. “As promised, that debate was more stimulating than last meal.”

  “Is the foul creature cast out?” Jotham asked.

  “He’s trapped in that brick forever. I just spent half my magic and half my hand, boy. My debt is paid,” the high priestess announced, wincing as she attempted to set her own fingers.

  “You like us, admit it,” Brent said. “You couldn’t stay away.”

  “The deck has been shuffled,” Sarajah said. “The cards say your side has the best chance of victory.”

  “You chose,” Tatters whispered, waving the incense around to dispel the foul smoke.

  Sarajah blinked. “Yes, I suppose I did.” Sophia set her chair upright and pushed the high priestess into it. “What?”

  The architect responded in flat tones, “She’s going to treat your injuries and then feed you till you can’t move.”

  Sarajah raised an eyebrow. “I don’t remember asking.”

  Simon chuckled. “You don’t get a say.”

  The high priestess grunted. “Is anyone going to look at the hero who caused me to ruin a perfectly good aetheric circuit and this hand?”

  Nearly every man in the room said, at the same time, “He’ll be all right.”

  Jolia said, “Well I’m not cleaning this mess up.”

  Jotham shook his head, “I don’t imagine you’ll have time. We need to leave early. I’ll take the Book of Dominion with me to finish. We just need to know where we’re going. I have to find the One True Sword before we go to the Final Temple. Perhaps our newest member could perform a reading on the cards.”

  “I should just change my name to Ox. That’s all I am to you,” complained Sarajah. “But if you’d been listening, Brent could tell you.”

  “You used my name,” noted the boy.

  “Your mom is performing a delicate operation on my body right now. I thought it best to be polite. Don’t get used to it.” The lady of the house gave one finger a twist that made it pop back into place. “Ouch! I’ll have some of that wine.”

  “The Shadow turned it all to vinegar,” noted Owl.

  “Mom?” asked Brent. “But Master Jotham hasn’t signed over my papers yet.”

  Sarajah snorted. “The moment you became a master, he had no say over you, child. And her standing unarmed in front of a Hungry Ghost for you trumps any certificate of adoption.”

  “Huh,” Brent mused, with a smile.

  Jotham sighed. “The destination?”

  “Oh,” the boy said, looking to his new mother for confirmation. She nodded with a smile of her own. “It’s in the Holy of Holies in the Final Temple. I saw it in . . . Mom’s model downstairs. I like that.”

  “Interesting,” Jotham observed. “That might increase the challenge slightly, as they’re bound to have guards.”

  “It gets worse. Low-level Dawn folk are gathering around the last gate like bugs around a flame. Things are converging, all the Arcana,” Sarajah choked back a curse word as the other woman cracked the last finger into place.

  Sophia left to get medical supplies. It was far easier for her to fetch them herself than to explain the location to anyone, especially her husband.

  “What did you do with the relic cloak?” asked Jotham, seeing the patches and soot.

  The seeress smiled and changed it to a grey-green that matched her eyes. As Jolia cooed at the trick, Sarajah explained, “The owner and I had a chat. He taught me a few things and suggested that I resolve matters with the Pretender and his bride-to-be. Nothing remains of my old life. I felt safe to come back here because the Viper’s dead.”

  Jolia raised her eyebrows. “Good news for women everywhere. Did you have anything to do with that?”

  The seeress said, “Well, if you want something done right . . .”

  “We’ll be sure to tell our captive aristocrat the news before we let him go. It might make him run faster,” said the concubine.

  The woman of the house returned, placed the round part of a wooden spoon into Sarajah’s hand, and began splinting the longest fingers to the handle with ribbon.

  “I came back here because Jotham is the only candidate for the throne who’s playing with . . . well . . . a full deck,” explained the seeress.

  When Sophia was done, she touched the high priestess’s chest and spelled, “G-o-o-d.”

  Brent translated, “She says you have a good heart.”

  “Yes, the cloak helped me understand what she spelled,” Sarajah said. “I’m not sure I agree. However, I would accept some of that stuffed chicken, but not under glass.”

  The lady of the house led her into the kitchen. While the seeress ate, Sophia fetched the best vintage they had to help her numb the pain.

  When Jolia came into the kitchen, Sarajah handed her the document promising safe passage by sea. “Go to the Center till this war blows over. You belong at court. Find some lonely aristocrat and make him the envy of the islands.”

  The courtesan laughed, “This is amazing; it’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. How? Why?”

  The high priestess thought for a moment. “I earned it by doing a reading for the Kragen witch. I meant to use it to get as far from her as possible.”

  “What changed your mind? The sheriff with the body? Don’t worry. I’m not after him; I won’t get in your way,” Jolia assured her.

  “In my way? No. Although it’s smart to get you out of here before you make a pass at the architect,” Sarajah said, making the other woman blush. “Seriously, you were the second person to help me in my new life. You had no reason to show such kindness. To balance my aid to Sandarac’s side, I did a reading of the cards for you.”

  “He always loved when you did that for him! What did you see? Tell me,” Jolia said, hopping up and down.

  “You’re going to meet a valiant stranger, someone high ranking. He’s going to take you on a long journey, and you’re going to be happy again.” Tapping the safe passage, she said, “That’s your ticket. I couldn’t use it, knowing what it could mean for you. After tonight, I’m also convinced these people need my help to stay alive.”

  “But what’ll happen to me when Sandarac storms the Center?”

  Sarajah sighed. “He won’t. His reading is private, but you have no worries.”

  “Oh.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  Jolia shrugged. “I still like him—”

  “Even though he wants you dead?”

  “Yeah. I’ll bet you think that makes me an idiot,” said the concubine, glumly.

  “You have a big heart. It’s the one thing that’s enabled Sandarac to get this far. If he doesn’t see that, he’s the idiot.”

  Sophia had been watching them for several moments before she popped the cork to get their attention. She took out three fine glasses that couldn’t survive the trip, and which she would probably never see again. Then the lady of the house poured her finest vintage into each. She raised her glass in a toast.

  “To choices,” said Sarajah.

  “And new friends,” added Jolia.

  Chapter 33 – A Tall, Dark Stranger

  Saying goodbye to the others at the architect’s mansion took Jolia half an hour. They parted ways at midnight. She even got a fatherly

  hug from Simon. “Wives,” she sighed as she walked toward the docks. To her surprise, there were sentries at every crossroads and patrols roving in between.
Afraid that Humi was searching for her, the former consort hid in the bushes. From the brush, she overheard that they were searching for a green-eyed woman who’d stolen the empress-to-be’s prized necklace. There was a sizable reward. Jolia ran back to tell the others, but they were long gone. The ancient caretaker said, “Maybe you’d better stay safe here till morning, missy. You’re always welcome.”

  She shook her head. “If I don’t leave now, I never wl. There’ll always be another excuse, another reason to hide. I can see in the dark, and I’ve traveled before. Besides, the exercise will help tone my calves and behind. My butt ached all last week from the trip here.”

  Jolia walked along the riverbanks instead of using the roads. It was slower going, but she didn’t have to worry about soldiers. The trip should have taken her only six hours; however, with the scenic route and a brief nap, she reached the outskirts of Turiv at two hours past noon. Then, she had to hide while ships unloaded wounded soldiers and took on supplies.

  “You can’t leave them here,” argued the mayor.

  “The hospitals in Reneau are full,” countered the ship’s captain. “Lady Kragen said we should use the Dreaming City.”

  “That’s an hour away. Half of these men won’t be able to walk that far.”

  “Then your people will have to carry them. I have my orders.”

  The former concubine avoided the men from the first ship, but sailors from the second pressed her into labor. There was just no one else around. Even tavern owners and merchants were hauling the injured to the tent city. After five trips, her hands were raw from the stretcher handles, and she collapsed behind some bales of cotton on the dock to get some rest.

  The tired half-Imperial awoke at dawn on the next day. A magnificent old ship had just docked, but no one dared greet it. Turiv was a ghost town. Noticing the Kragen marks on the bow, she cleaned herself and marched up to the gangplank. Jolia had a writ from Lady Humi herself!

  That’s when two soldiers stopped her. “Ho, there, ma’am. I’m afraid we have to search you,” the senior soldier said with a leer.

  “I have a writ of passage,” she said holding out the sealed document proudly.

  “So does the thief.”

  “I’m taller than she is, and the wrong eye color.”

  “A master of disguise. The bosom matches the description, though. And that necklace could be hidden anywhere,” reasoned the head soldier.

  The other soldier added, “We’ll have to search extra thorough.”

  She dropped the first man with a well-placed kick to the groin. The second grabbed for her, but caught only the hem of her skirt. The fabric ripped as she struggled to escape. The dress had ripped to her knee by the time the first man whipped his sword free from its scabbard. He wheezed, “I’ve had just about enough . . .”

  A well-groomed knight with a gold-trimmed sword strode down the gangplank with supreme bearing. He could’ve balanced a drinking bowl on top of his head without spilling a drop. With a highborn southern accent that gave Jolia a perverse thrill, the scout captain said, “What’s the meaning of this?”

  When the man at her feet tried to make a grab for her waist, Jolia elbowed him in the nose. The senior dock guard lunged toward her with murder in his eye. The scout captain grabbed a wooden pin from inside a coil of ropes and hurled it at the attacker from three strides away.

  “Ow!” cried the soldier as the pin smacked him. He turned the blade toward the newcomer. “Who the blue blazes do you think you are?”

  Closing the gap between them, the captain said, “A superior officer who just asked you a question. And if I weren’t a gentleman on the way to a formal reception, I would’ve drawn my sword already. If you fail to answer me again, I can still use the scabbard to give you a thrashing.”

  The guard started to brag until he saw the lean and serious men lining the rails of the deck. Several of them had bows aimed his way. He lowered the blade. “Forgive me, sir. She attacked us.”

  “They accused me of stealing the empress’s jewelry and wanted to rip all my clothing off to find it.”

  “Really?” said the captain, cool enough to freeze seawater.

  “It was just a little harmless fun . . .” one culprit explained.

  “I even had a writ of passage from the empress for safe passage to this ship,” Jolia said, holding out the paper.

  The captain walked over to her, examined the seal, and compared it to the one on his invitation. “Indeed you do, lady. It seems you’re my welcoming committee.”

  She favored him with a smile designed to distract crowds and let her knee show through the fabric of her torn dress as she reclaimed the writ. He noticed and dropped his own paper.

  She bent over to retrieve it, and every sailor on the dock watched in silence. “I’m in your debt, sir,” she said, handing the invitation to him. “Jolia.”

  Taking her hand, he bowed his forehead to it and said, “Onira.”

  Men from the ship flanked them, eager to get a closer look. General Navarra, who’d traveled with the scouts, disarmed the dock guards personally.

  The suave scout commander said, “A lady like yourself should never have to fear her own defenders. The entire army is in your debt. How shall we punish these offenders? I hear that the emperor requires all his sailors to study swimming. Perhaps we should give these dock apes swimming lessons.”

  In the Inner Sea, those lessons could have been quite dangerous. Both men started to shake and plead. Navarra used a single glove to slap each. “Silence, or I will choose.”

  “You don’t want that,” whispered the general’s adjutant. “He likes to make examples.”

  They forced the two miscreants to kneel before the woman.

  “Well . . . since the entire town has been hauling injured soldiers to a camp an hour north of here, you’re not likely to find anyone to help you unload,” she began.

  “It’s just us,” said the southern gentleman, examining the blood and dirt smeared on her skirt and hands. “Were you injured?”

  “No, this is from carrying the wounded.”

  Turning to the criminals, he said, “She just spent a day saving the lives of your comrades and you treat her like this?”

  “May I borrow your dagger?” she asked.

  The officer handed over his weapon without hesitation. The soldiers on their knees started shaking. Urine trickled onto the decking. Jolia ignored them and used the blade to shape the dress’s rip to arc in a pattern that looked intentional. The alternation showed her right leg to advantage. The crowd was growing. “I only mentioned this because you may need someone to carry your luggage, and they might serve.”

  “Just field packs. We travel light,” said Onira.

  She winced. “Not good. Using the same clothes at two functions in a row or wearing wrinkled clothes to the emperor’s wedding?”

  “Thank you. I’ll find a tailor on the way to . . . I have no idea where we’ll even be staying,” admitted Onira.

  “You have a personal invitation to the wedding from Sandarac,” she noted. “That means you’ll be at the palace. An entourage this big would mean the second floor of the east wing. I’m guessing the blue suite.”

  “Fascinating,” Onira said, watching her lips. “You know the emperor’s preferences so well?”

  She smiled mysteriously. “I picked the paint colors for your rooms.”

  The men on their knees had stopped breathing due to fear.

  “Do you know the nobles well?” Onira asked.

  She snorted. “Snakes and spoiled children.”

  “Well,” Onira said cautiously, “I don’t know anyone in the entire kingdom, but you seem to be a veritable font of life-saving information. Having such a person on my arm during the days of ceremony ahead would be invaluable. Do you have an escort for the wedding?”

  “I find myself in short supply of dresses,” she said.

  “These can be purchased. The emperor has offered to reimburse all my expenses. This would quali
fy.”

  “Oh, I know where there’s a closetful, and it won’t cost you a copper bit.”

  “Then you find me distasteful?” asked Onira.

  “On the contrary,” she flirted.

  “I need someone to watch out for me. You wouldn’t abandon me to this fate. Would you?”

  “You don’t want me,” Jolia assured him.

  Onira took a deep breath and said in a deeper tone, “On the contrary.”

  She raised an eyebrow. Thank you, Sarajah. Out loud, she said, “I must warn you of two things. First, I’m going to stand out in high society like a cow at a tea party. But I don’t hide who I am; what you see is what you get. People are going to talk about me wherever we go.”

  “Nothing you could say would dissuade me after that warning,” Onira promised.

  She wrinkled her face. “Sweet, but you need to hear this. When I said I knew the emperor, I mean that I knew the emperor.”

  The criminals fell on their faces, blubbering. It was distracting, so she stepped aside with Onira. Stammering, he asked, “You were part of his harem?”

  “Honey, I was the harem,” she bragged. “And if you’re still willing to take me to the wedding, I’ll be there to wash your back.”

  Onira was having trouble forming words as he said, “You mean watch?”