Tavera entered a large, airy space, the scents of the town below and the church compound around her mingling with the roomy accents of sheets and wooden furniture. A doorway led to what Tavera guessed was the bedroom. Tavera felt curious as to what kind of bed a High Priestess had but the object of her desire was before her. The plate was on the table, waiting for her. It wasn’t in the saddlebag, as Tavera had hoped. She sighed and looked around the room for something to wrap up the bowl.
Nothing much. Tavera saw a table with two chairs, a table for food service with a pitcher and bowl for washing up and several bookshelves. Paintings hung on the wall and a statue of the Goddess, about two hands high, sat on a shelf above the large round window overlooking the town.
The town? Tavera huffed, looking out the window. A little obvious? Perking up an ear, she went to the bedroom to see if there was something in there she could use.
Tavera turned the knob and pushed, walking into the door as it budged slightly, and then stopped short. Something was in front of the door. Another push and a shove revealed a room in complete disorder. Tavera’s mouth fell open and then curled into a grin as she looked over the chaos of the room. Scarves, shawls, skirts and sheets all lay in heaps and piles on the single sleeper bed and on the floor, draped over the chair. Bed sheets lay half pulled out of a dresser.
“That’ll do,” Tavera mused, stepping over various garments and objects. She tried not to step on anything, so as not to leave telltale footprints but felt cloth of various layers under her feet. A bed sheet was quickly yanked from the drawer, other linens spilling out of the drawer when she tugged, taking the sheet to the front room to wrap up the plate.
Up close, touching it, a shiver ran down her spine. The tarnished silver attested to its age. Pieces of deep-red stone were embedded along the rim. In the center of the plate she saw two hands, holding what Tavera knew to be an anatomically correct heart. Tavera spread the sheet out before placing the plate squarely in the middle, wrapping it up and securing the sheet around the plate with several careful knots before she carried it back to the bedroom.
The window in the bedroom faced away from the street. It was small but less likely to have someone staring up at it. Tavera climbed up on the bed and opened the window, glad to find it well oiled. Below the window was a balcony for the apartment below the High Priestess. “Tits,” Tavera muttered, thinking over her plan. She’d have to throw the plate farther out to get it to land safely and the window wasn’t exactly large.
Tavera listened to make sure no one was out on the balcony before she gripped the plate as best she could, lobbing it gently toward the ground so it would fall on its bottom. With a rustle of branches and leaves. It landed in the bushes. Content it was safe, Tavera closed the window. She stepped over the clothes and shut the bedroom door behind her, making sure the front room was as she had found it. Perking up her ear, she listened at the front door before she eased out, locking it securely before she walked calmly down the hall and down the stairs.
Sounds from the lower landing told Tavera several priestess had returned and she peeked down the hall to see if any of the doors were open. One was cracked, but just a nudge. Tavera took a quiet breath before walking past the door, quickening her speed once she had cleared it and slowing down once she got to the top of the stairs.
“Not staying for Cera?” the old priestess said, raising a brow. Tavera walked by her, shaking her head.
“No, I found my answer while I waited,” Tavera said, walking backwards, her eyes pulled toward the plate.
“Ah, the Goddess often does that, doesn’t she! Well, I’ll tell her you were by,” the priestess said, waving.
“No need!” Tavera called. “I wouldn’t want to trouble her. Thank you for offering.” Before the priestess could say anything. Tavera broke away and headed down the narrow street, looking around before she hopped over the fence and approached the bushes.
The bushes were higher off the ground than she had thought. “Tits,” Tavera cursed, looking around to make sure no one was watching yet again. She took a deep breath before she wiggled her fingers, trying to part the thick, leafy branches to give her a clear grab. The branches were strong. Twigs scraped at her face and she smelled the green scent of crushed leaves as she reached and clawed at the air, trying to get a hold of the bit of fabric hanging down. Her face grew hot. What would Derk say if he saw his girl, fighting with a bush for a score? He’d probably laugh. Tavera stifled a chuckle as she bent at the knees, jumping up and grabbing a hold of the parcel, yanking it towards her, a shower of pale green leaves spraying her.
She had the plate. Tavera would make sure it wasn’t ruined later. She hopped back over the wall and walked down the street, the lanterns lit for the night. Tavera retraced her steps and wound up back at the map maker’s building. A quick scan of the road got Tavera two small stones which she quickly threw up at the window, the glass rapping with the sound. A light grew brighter within the room and then the window swung open, Gaela popped her head out, confusion on her face.
“Point?” she said. “What is it?”
“Come down here,” Tavera called.
“What for?” Gaela asked. There were people on the street, though several blocks down. Tavera sighed.
“Just come down, it’s important! Tits,” she muttered, walking to the building and leaning against it. After a few breaths she heard someone within, saw the light coming to the door. The lock clicked open and the door creaked, Tavera darting in before Gaela could walk out. “Hey, I need you to hold this.”
“What is it?” Gaela asked. Tavera noticed her red eyes and wondered if she had been sleeping. If so, she’d woken up easily enough.
“It’s something for the trip but I can’t carry it. If you would hold onto it and bring it with you tomorrow, I’d appreciate it.” Tavera smiled in what she hoped was an assuring way at Gaela. “Secret weapon, if you will.”
Gaela narrowed her eyes at Tavera but held out her hand. “It’s probably better I don’t know, right?” Gaela said with a laugh.
“Now you’ve got it,” Tavera said. “You catch on quick.”
“In my line of work, I hear more than you might think,” Gaela said with a yawn. “I imagine…nothing, I’m going to try to get back to sleep,” Gaela said, shooing Tavera away with a wave of her hand.
“Right,” Tavera said. “Lock up after me,” she said. Gaela nodded, following after Tavera wearily. Tavera left, hearing the door lock behind her and she looked up and down the street before she stepped down into it.
Tavera hummed to herself as she walked back toward the temple thinking about what she had just done. She’d told Tender she was just getting something back but she had broken into a High Priestess’ room. If she had been caught, what would have happened? Tavera would have lied about it. Tender would have vouched for her, right? If caught, would she have stayed?
She thought about how far of a jump it would have been from the High Priestess’ room to the balcony. She could have made it, to the balcony and then down to the ground. Easily. All her stuff was back at the temple so an escape would have been a ‘naked’ escape, as some called it. Not the most desired event, but if it had to be done. Granted, the priestesses knew who she was, in a fashion. Saw her. People knew her name. Tavera sighed, wondering how this was going to turn on her.
Would Tender turn her in? She was certain he wouldn’t for this. He was an accomplice of sorts, just as guilty. Not that she would rope him into it if it came to it. She couldn’t. He’d allowed Tavera to steal the plate back because she had convinced him it had to be done and she couldn’t think of another way to rescue Kella without it. Not in any plan she was involved with. Four people against more than a few handfuls? Cunning was needed more than brute force. She tended to think it was the answer for most situations.
Tavera turned around the corner and stopped short. In the middle of the courtyard sat Tender and Sister Cera, sitting on one of the benches. The sister said something and Tave
ra’s good ear perked up, hearing Tender laugh. They were both laughing and eyeing each other. Tender reached up and put his hand on Sister Cera’s face, but she leaned in and kissed him first. Tavera watched. It seemed like a kiss that had waited too long to happen drawing them closer to each other. Their hands strayed over each other, their embrace growing hungry. Tavera finally narrowed her eyes and tried not to watch, feeling her cheeks grow warm. Satisfied they were too involved with each other to pay attention, she walked through the courtyard, skirting the trees partially hiding them from the other buildings, finally stepping squarely into the path leading up to the back of the temple.
“Point!” Tavera heard Tender call her just as she was in the doorway. She heard Tender say something to Cera before he called again, “Point!” Tavera just lifted her hand in acknowledgment, not bothering to turn around. She simply nodded at the priestess who guarded the inside of the door and walked down the hall, down the stairs to the basement.
Little was already asleep, his blond hair managing to look even more unkempt. Tavera saw only one other person sleeping in the room and she sighed as she pulled off her boots, setting them by the wall before she went to make her bed.
Bedroll and blanket set up, Tavera stripped down to her tunic, feeling very tired all of a sudden. Usually after a take she was happy, excited. Now she couldn’t manage a smile. Tender. She went to the basin and pitcher provided, washing her hands and face before crawling into her bed set beside Little, the quiet of the basement room engulfing her.
Someone stirring woke her up and Tavera opened her eyes. Whoever it was coughed and she knew it was Tender, finally coming down. Tavera stiffened under her blankets, hoping he wouldn’t notice and know she was awake.
“Point,” Tender whispered. She heard him kneel beside her, felt his hand on her arm through the blankets. “You awake?”
“Tits, I am now,” she lied, turning over. Tavera pulled her blankets up, covering as much of her body as possible. “What d’you want? We’ve an early day tomorrow.”
“Did you get it?” he asked. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Tavera narrowed her eyes, amused by how pleased he looked.
“Yes,” she said flatly, rolling over. For a moment she thought he would leave her alone. But Tavera smirked into her pillow. “That was smart, the prayer service,” she whispered.
“I would have asked for one anyway,” Tender said. She listened as he set up his bed and washed, getting undressed. The sound of blankets and Tender sighing told her he had settled in. All she heard was their breathing in the room, though questions sounded in her brain. She wondered how long she’d been asleep. She wondered how long Tender had spent with Sister Cera.
“Well. Good night,” Tavera said quietly. Now wasn’t the time to ask. Now wasn’t the time to care.
“Night,” Tender yawned, rolling over in his bed, his back toward Tavera. She lay in her bed, wondering what would happen tomorrow. Perhaps Cera had given Tender the last kiss he’d ever get. Who was the last man Tavera had kissed? That stranger from her initiation. She groaned inwardly. She didn’t even know his name. Tavera buried her face in her blankets and closed her eyes.
Her thoughts strayed to the man who had taken her back to his room, his dark hair, the scars embedded in his skin, his mouth on hers. Abruptly her thoughts turned to Sister Kella, wherever she was, alone and unloved. All of Tavera’s weariness sped from her mind as she thought of Kella and Tender and herself, never being loved again. Tomorrow they would try to do something about this and Tavera would have to do all in her power to make sure they all came back.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Plans Gone Awry
The bar was noisy and smoky, the pungent smell of many liquors and many drinkers washing over her as she walked in. The sounds of glasses, drunks and chairs scraping against the floor were comforting as she allowed them to envelop her. There was a fight breaking out in the corner but from the looks of it, it would end quickly and badly for the bald man. Women in too-tight bodices walked around with tankards in their hands. One with curly blonde hair approached her.
“Get you a drink, boy? A bit more than a drink?” the woman asked. Tavera pulled back her hat to reveal her feminine features and sly grin, and the woman smirked.
“I’ll get what I want from the keep,” Tavera said loudly, her voice muffled by the rowdy bar.
“Just as well, you ain’t my type,” the woman said and bustled off into the crowds, leaving the thief to her business.
“What’ll it be, stranger?” The ugly barkeep had the features of a man who had been punched in the face too many times and the bearing of someone who had returned the favor all too often. Deep set eyes peered out from his leathery face and his thinning hair was combed over the top of his head, as if it would hide his sweaty skull. He fixed his beady gaze on her greedily, pulling out a clay tankard before she even opened her mouth to order. This was definitely the man. Gaela’s charts had taken them in the right direction and several shaken Freewilders told them about the barkeep who dealt with the strangers covered in scars, who preached about a strange version of the Goddess. “Something strange, to be sure.” Tavera pulled a bundle off her back, its bulk and awkwardness quickly tucked between her feet, wrapping the shoulder straps around her ankles as an extra precaution against someone taking it. The barkeep gave her a quizzical look. Tavera returned it with a confident smile, rapping her knuckles on the worn and nicked bar top. “I was told you could connect me with some people who might be interested in something I am selling.”
The barkeep snorted, looking toward the door as it opened, a large bell ringing against the din when anyone entered. He shook his head and looked at Tavera, his thin lips disappearing as he pressed them together. “I don’t know who told you that. Are you going to order or not?” He was obviously agitated by her question, probably asked the same thing multiple times a day, if he was who Tavera had been told he was. His disapproval of her question only inspired her to press on. He was going to help her.
“I would like a bitter if you have it,” she said, not able to keep from looking to the side as a crash sounded from where the fight had ended. The bald man groaned loudly, his moans of pain barely audible over the laughs of those who watched. Someone unceremoniously lifted him up and headed for the door. It was time to grab the barkeep’s attention. “It don’t matter who told me, just what I have. I have to get rid of it by the full moon, or rather…I am told it is wanted by the Red Moon, Pense.”
He stopped short, as if drawing in his breath. Tavera saw it. Pense pulled the pitcher off the shelf and tilted it to pour.
“So…you’re the one who has brought it, eh?” The beer gurgled as it filled the glass. He pushed it toward her, leaning in close in the event the din was not loud enough to mangle their words. “I thought a man was to bring it.”
“It shouldn’t matter if a man or a woman has brought it, as long as they get their goods and I get my money.” The barkeep’s eyebrows raised slightly. Tavera wrinkled her nose at him. “What?”
“I just thought…I was told--”
“What, that someone was going to trade this plate for that woman?” Tavera laughed, taking a gulp of her drink, not bothering to wipe her face before she spoke. “I’ve no need for women, especially not drunks who aren’t even valued by the robe wearers, who dump them in backwater towns. However, I do need money and they apparently need this plate. So,” she said, taking another smaller gulp of her beer. “Tell them I want fifty fullies and a dagger.”
“Fifty? You hem-chewin’’ brat, how--”
“Oi!” she hissed, grabbing him by the collar, knocking her drink over in the process. Tavera pretended her gaze would burn a hole in his skull if she concentrated hard enough. “I will take this tossin’ plate to the church at Briers and they will buy it from me for whatever stupid purpose they have for it! Now you set this up! I’ll meet them out back at two fingers till and they had better show up or I’m gone. And if I get gone, they w
on’t get a hold of me or their fappin’ piece of shit relic for a good long time.” She let go of the barkeep, their scuffle apparently not drawing any attention from any of the other patrons. Tavera felt her sleeve grow cold and wet as she set her arm back down on the bartop. She fixed her hat atop her head; it had fallen askew when she grabbed the man.
“I’ll see what I can do.” He sounded defeated, as if her demands had trampled him down and he was having a hard time getting back up. For a second she considered pitying him, but he was a middle man, someone who preyed off of people desperate to get rid of things and acquire things. By the few accounts they gathered, he was mostly retired, but there were always a few things he couldn’t turn down and a few parties he couldn’t say no to. The Temple of the Red Moon Rising had not yet ripped their claws from his flesh.
Something bothered her, though. Something in the pit of her stomach told her that there was a piece of the puzzle she had missed. The situation felt off. Was it with Pense? Or was it with the picture as a whole?
“And get me another drink, damn you,” she muttered, keeping her eyes fixed on him. Did he know something she didn’t? He had to. He dealt with the cult on a somewhat regular basis and supposedly, Cy and a few others even visited this bar on occasion. Barkeeps knew people and if they trusted him with important arrangements as well as a way to get a hold of them, he could know some very important things indeed.
The beer sloshed out as he set it firmly on the bar top, obviously annoyed with her, glaring at her. It chilled her down to the bone, the way he looked at her, but Tavera managed to keep calm, sitting as still as a statue and meeting his gaze with an equal amount of energy.
The Valley of Ten Crescents Series (Box Set: Books 1-3) Page 58
