The Temple of Forgotten Secrets

by C. J. Archer

  Balthazar made a scoffing sound. "You make it sound as though our fates are not in our hands."

  "Fate is not what you think it is, Bal. It is a combination of the god and goddess's wills, but it must be combined with the will of men and women. For instance, Merdu might decide to return your memories to you, but if you do not go searching for your pasts, he cannot present the opportunity to you." He held out both hands, palms up, as if weighing two objects. "Merdu's will and your own must be in alignment."

  Balthazar grunted. "As a man of reason, I don't like your theory."

  "But as a man of Merdu, you do. I know you better than yourself, Bal. At this point in time, at least."

  Balthazar's pace quickened. I suspected he didn't like what the high priest said. I also suspected he knew he was right, to a certain point. Trust Balthazar to not want to admit it, however.

  The dining room was much like the high temple's main audience chamber with a mosaic floor. The tiles on this floor were arranged with images of the sun and moon. A long table that could seat at least twenty filled the room. It was set for only six tonight. Several brothers stood around the edges of the room, holding jugs. As soon as we sat, they filled our cups with wine. The cups were ordinary pewter, the tableware simple. A trail of white and pink flowers decorated the center of the table, but they were the only adornment in the room aside from two large tapestries depicting the god and goddess hanging on the walls. Even the candlesticks were made of iron rather than silver or gold.

  The brothers melted back to the edges of the room once our cups were full. Another door opened and six more priests entered, each carrying a covered bowl. The bowls were set before us and the lids lifted to reveal a thick soup. It smelled of beef and a blend of herbs and spices.

  "Start," the high priest said with an irritated glance at the vacant sixth place. Rhys had not arrived.

  "This is delicious," Theodore said, digging his spoon into the bowl for another taste.

  The high priest smiled. "You sound surprised."

  "I thought it would be blander."

  "I entertain kings and queens here, lords, ladies and the Supreme Holiness himself. They are willing to overlook the simple room and table setting, but not bland food. My cook is one of the best in Glancia, although I hear the cook at the palace could rival him."

  "I'll judge after I've tasted the rest of the meal."

  The door leading to the reception room burst open and Rhys strode in. He bowed to the high priest and nodded a greeting to the rest of us. He looked exhausted. Dark smudges underscored eyes red from lack of sleep, and he hadn't shaved. Indeed, he looked like he'd just walked in from patrol in dusty boots and gloves.

  "You're late," the high priest said.

  "My apologies, Your Eminence." Rhys didn't offer an explanation and the high priest didn't ask for one.

  "Your men will be busy this evening," Dane said as Rhys sat. "The people are restless, and from what I've witnessed these last few days, the constables are more than happy to use violence to keep them at bay. How many men are you sending out each night?"

  Rhys stared into his soup. "Rufus is in charge of the duty roster at the moment."

  Dane frowned.

  "Your friend is still missing," I said gently.

  Rhys paused then gave a slight nod before plunging his spoon into the soup.

  "Did the men tell you I'm leaving tomorrow?" Balthazar asked.

  Rhys nodded, whereas the high priest set down his spoon. "Leaving?" he asked. "Bal…why? This is your home. We are you people, your family. You belong here, not at the palace. There isn't even a king to serve."

  "I'm not returning to the palace. Dane, Theo and the others will continue searching for their memories, and I want to go with them."

  The high priest's brow plunged with his frown. "Dane?"

  Balthazar indicated Dane, sitting opposite. "The captain."

  The high priest blinked owlishly. "Your first name is Dane?"

  "Have you heard of me?" Dane asked. "Of someone named Dane who disappeared?"

  The high priest shook his head and picked up his spoon again. "I'm afraid not. It's not a common name, but it's not all that unusual either. My apologies, I feel a fool for not asking your name when we arrived. I assumed you preferred to simply be called Captain."

  "Not anymore," Dane said. "I've given up the position."

  "To go in search of your memory. Where will you look?"

  "We'll cross the border into Vytill tomorrow."

  The high priest set his spoon down without finishing his soup. "You should continue your search in Glancia first. You're tall."

  "But too dark to be full Glancian," Dane said.

  The high priest indicated Theodore. "Why not travel to Dreen? Theodore is most certainly from there."

  "We're going to Freedland first," Theodore said. "Via Vytill."

  The high priest's frown deepened. "Freedland? May I ask why? It's so far away."

  "We have reason to believe some of us might come from there." Balthazar indicated Dane. "Dane, for one, considering his olive complexion and dark hair."

  "Are you sure it's wise to go all the way to Freedland? It's quite a journey, particularly for a man of your years, Bal."

  "I'll manage."

  "They say it's a wild place, being so isolated from civilization. I hear there are pockets where savages roam and marauders take advantage of travelers. You'll have to be very careful, particularly with a woman to protect. If they capture her…" He shook his head. "I don't think it's wise for Josie to go."

  I narrowed my gaze at Dane, daring him to order me to stay behind. He did not, but I suspected I might have to fight that battle back at the inn.

  "What's it like politically?" Balthazar asked. "Is it stable?"

  "It is now and has been for almost a decade," the high priest said. "Before that there were some clashes between the republicans and royalist supporters."

  "The royalists weren't all killed during the civil war?" Dane asked.

  "Some survived. They would come out of hiding from time to time in an attempt to overthrow the republic, but they were always suppressed. They must have all since died or given up their quest because there's been no trouble for several years. Thank Hailia."

  "You're a supporter of the republic?" Balthazar asked.

  "I'm a supporter of peace. The last king was a tyrant, his rule filled with bloodshed and fear. I'm not sorry about his end. He deserved to be overthrown and Merdu must have agreed. Rulers of the other kingdoms on the Fist should take the last king of Freedland's life and death as a lesson to try and be better, kinder."

  We fell into silence as the brothers collected our empty bowls and the next course was brought in.

  "What did the surviving royalists want to replace Freedland's high minister and his advisers with?" I asked, watching a priest lift the lid off a platter to reveal an entire roasted turkey. "Did any descendants of the last king survive?"

  "None," the high priest said. "His two sons and daughter were killed in the uprising. They were children at the time so had not yet married."

  "Children! How awful."

  I lost my appetite, despite the parade of delicious food being brought in from the kitchen. The brothers placed platters of fish, oysters, pheasant, eel, salads and vegetables before us. The priests who'd been standing at the edges of the room with wine jugs refilled our cups.

  The high priest signaled to one of the servers and whispered something in his ear. The priest left through the service door only to return a short time later and hand the high priest a small bottle stopped with a cork. It looked like the ones I filled with tonics. The high priest pocketed it.

  "Have you heard any more from the palace?" Balthazar asked him.

  The high priest stared at him for a long moment without answering. He seemed distracted, as if he hadn't heard a word, and he'd gone pale. The food must not be agreeing with him. If he dined as sumptuously as this only rarely, it wasn't surprising.


  "Your Eminence," Balthazar prompted. "The dukes. Have you heard any more?"

  The high priest picked up his knife. "I have, in fact, and it's a little concerning. Several Glancian lords have written to me, stating which duke they will support."

  "Why is that disturbing? It's good that they keep you informed."

  "It's disturbing because the information they're basing their decision on seems false to me. For instance, Lord Laxland threw his weight behind Buxton because he'd been informed that Grenlee was supporting Gladstow. But I received a letter this morning from Grenlee saying he was, in fact, supporting Buxton."

  "Laxland and Grenlee despise one another," Rhys told us. "What one does, the other is sure to do the opposite out of spite."

  "Like squabbling children," the high priest spat.

  "Why does it matter?" Theodore asked. "Setting aside their petty disputes, why should the nobles care what the others are doing?"

  "If the lords are told lies, then the dukes might hear them too. If they believe they have more support than they have, they'll strike early."

  "Glancia could be plunged into war soon," I murmured.

  The high priest nodded gravely.

  "Is the false information coming from Vytill?" Dane asked.

  "Most likely," the high priest said. "It would suit King Phillip to set the dukes against one another before the nobles have truly made up their minds."

  Balthazar looked grim. "He wants to cause chaos to weaken Glancia."

  "So he can come in with his army and take over," Theodore finished. "This is terrible."

  "This is how kings operate," the high priest said. "King Phillip's ambition has been known for years. Ever since Prince Hugo's death, he has been waiting for King Alain to die so he could claim the Glancian throne. If Leon hadn't been found and declared legitimate, he would have started these rumors months ago. Leon's rise to the throne put a halt to his plans."

  "And his death revived them," Rhys said.

  "It's a good time to get out of Glancia," Balthazar said.

  "And into Vytill?" The high priest shook his head. "Hardly."

  "We're just passing through Vytill," Dane said.

  "I still think Dreen is the better choice right now. Give your friend Theo a chance to find his family while Glancia and Vytill fight their battles."

  Theodore smiled. "That's kind of you, Your Eminence, but my curiosity about Freedland has been piqued. It seems like an interesting place."

  "I haven't been there myself."

  Dane and Rhys fell into conversation about which routes to take, what sort of supplies were needed, and which inns had the best reputations. It seemed Merdu's Guards often traveled into Vytill on peaceful pilgrimages to the religious capital of Fahl.

  Balthazar and the high priest grew quiet as they ate. I suspected they were both considering the political landscape and the potential for war in Glancia. Politics seemed to be a matter that interested them both. In the high priest's case, it would be an important part of his position. He needed to keep abreast of the machinations of kings. For Balthazar, it seemed to be an interest deeply ingrained in his character.

  Neither man ate much and both abandoned their plates without finishing. The high priest looked pale again, his brow furrowed.

  "You should take that tonic," I said.

  He blinked at me. "Pardon?"

  "The tonic your priest gave you earlier. Does it soothe your stomach after rich meals such as this?"

  "Yes. My apologies, Josie, my mind was elsewhere." He patted the pocket of his robe where he'd slipped the bottle. "I don't like to use it unless absolutely necessary. It causes other…unpleasant problems."

  Then it must be for indigestion. The most common tonic to treat it caused wind in some patients. "You can get a different tonic. Tell your apothecary to use a formula that contains less borrodi spice and more inkspur. It's milder on the stomach."

  "I will, and thank you, Josie. You're very observant."

  "Only when presented with medical conditions and medicine."

  He nodded, thoughtful.

  "My father taught me everything he knew. He and my mother often used to experiment with new medicinal recipes. I've kept their book and have expanded on several of their formulas. It's something I enjoy." I was rambling yet I couldn't stop myself. The high priest made me anxious in a similar way to the king when I first met him. I was used to dining with villagers, not powerful leaders.

  He smiled gently. "Don't be nervous with me," he said. "I'm just an old man who can't feast on rich food anymore. You, however, are quite the interesting young woman. It's no wonder the captain likes you."

  My face heated. "It's not like that between us."

  "No? But the way you two look at one another… Forgive me if I've misspoken."

  "You haven't. It's just that he could be married. We don't know."

  He pressed a hand to his heart. "I'm sorry. I didn't think. You're right. It's very commendable of you to…abstain." He looked to Dane, still having an earnest conversation with Rhys. "Commendable of you both."

  "He's a good man," I said. "Very honest and kind to his friends. The thought of betraying a wife goes against his very nature, even though he can't remember if he has one or not."

  "Good men are hard to find. But have you considered that he might not be a good man? That when he rediscovers his memory, he might change back to what he was before, and that it might not be good?"

  His suggestion took me by surprise and made my tone harsher than I intended. "As I said, it's in his nature. I'm not worried at all."

  "Then I wish you luck, Josie. And I pray that he is not married. You seem like you deserve happiness."

  A well of emotion suddenly filled my chest. I knew Dane might be married or otherwise committed, but I rarely allowed myself to think about it. There was no point in speculating. It only led to these emotions surfacing at awkward moments, like now.

  "I've upset you," the high priest said. "I'm sorry, that wasn't my intention." He passed me the cup of wine and watched as I sipped. "Forgive me for what I'm about to suggest, Josie, but I think it should be said. Perhaps you should not pursue this course of action."

  "Finding their memories? Thank you for your concern, but we must find out who they are. If they don't know their pasts, they can't move forward. That includes Dane. Especially Dane. His honor won't allow him to be with me unless he knows he's free."

  He shifted his weight in the chair and leaned closer. "Their memory loss is the will of the god. If Merdu decides to reinstate their memories, it will be done. Leave it to the higher power to act as he sees fit."

  "That goes against what you said earlier. You claimed an alignment of the god's will and the actions of man are necessary to force change. While the god might want to restore their memories, he can't do so if they are not searching for them."

  He stared at me and I felt a little sick for throwing his words back at him. Who was I to tell the high priest he was wrong about a theological matter?

  But his low chuckle dissolved my concern. "I can see why Balthazar likes you. You're right. Put it down to an old man worried about a young couple's future." His gaze turned serious. "Consider what I've said, Josie. Consider that it might be best to let sleeping dogs lie."

  Rhys suddenly stood and bade us goodnight. "I have work to do tonight," he said.

  "But you haven't eaten dessert yet," the high priest protested.

  "I'm not hungry."

  The high priest eyed Rhys's empty plate. He'd eaten more than one helping of the main course.

  "I don't like desserts," Rhys added. He bowed. "Your Eminence."

  He left without as much as a goodbye for Balthazar. He must be troubled indeed to ignore his friend on the eve of his departure. It would be some time before they saw one another again.

  We ate our dessert and left too. The remainder of the discussion for the evening centered on more trivial matters rather than politics. The high priest told us stories about Balthazar's
past, most of which had us laughing, even Balthazar.

  "I like him," I said as we rode in the high priest's personal carriage back to the inn. "I can see why you two were friends, Balthazar."

  "I can't," Balthazar said. "But then I can't see how I liked being a priest either, so perhaps I'm not the best judge."

  Theodore grinned. "Are you admitting to a weakness, Bal?"

  "I blame the good food and wine. I haven't dined like that since I ate food intended for the king's table."

  "You stole the king's food?" Theodore cried.

  "I was tasting it." Balthazar straightened. "I had to see if it was worthy of his palate."

  "Leon probably couldn't tell a good wine from a bad one," Dane said.

  "And you can?" I teased.

  "The good wines come from southern Vytill." The moonlight streaming through the window caught the impish gleam in his eyes.

  Balthazar grunted. "You read that in one of the palace library's books. I know because I read it too."

  Dane crossed his arms. "I haven't much occasion to sample wines. Unlike some, I never stole from the king's table."

  "Tasted, not stole." Balthazar clicked his tongue. "How long will it take us to get to Freedland again? I'm having second thoughts about spending it with a pack of boors."

  I laughed. "You can sit in the cart with me and we can discuss more civilized matters."

  "Like wine?"

  "I don't know much about wine. I know a lot about childbirth though."

  He groaned.

  I'd been wrong about Rhys. He came to say goodbye to Balthazar on the morning of our departure. He stood alongside his men lining the street outside the inn.

  "It's not too late to reconsider," Andreas said to Balthazar.

  "I want to do this," Balthazar said.

  "We just found you and now you're leaving us again." Andreas threw his arms around Balthazar with such vigor that Balthazar would have fallen if Andreas hadn't held him so tightly. "I'm going to miss you."

  "You're soft," Vizah muttered before also embracing Balthazar.

  Balthazar shook hands with each of the priests, and endured more hugs from Elliot and Rufus. When he came to Rhys at the end, Rhys remained in the line, unmoving.