Temple of the Traveler: Book 01 - Doors to Eternity

by Scott Rhine

  “I am a walker of the Path, the Sheriff of Tamarind Pass, and the Abbot of the Spirit Temple.”

  Sandarac set his jaw, eyes flashing. He shook his finger at Tashi, an indicator of wrath that for most men warned of impending death. The sheriff didn’t have the same sense of fear as most men and didn’t change his expression when the emperor raised his voice to scold, “Those are just titles, what you do, not who you are! Why do you dissemble? What are you hiding?”

  “I answer every question put to me.”

  The small man with the porcelain mask entered the conversation now. “Everyone has something to hide,” the Viper hissed. “Lawmen and judges are the worst. Often they must break laws to catch wrongdoers. They allow themselves to kill and inflict their will on others on a daily basis. Soon, few strictures apply to them at all. They begin to feel that they’re above the lawlati matters get interesting.”

  Tashi winced and repeated, “I’m a sheriff and uphold the duties of my office.”

  The Viper replied, “Avoidance. Excellent! I think we’re on the right track now.”

  The emperor in rags pressed him from the other direction. “Where were you heading when we found you?”

  “The City of the Gods.”

  The beggar seized on this admission. “That way is most perilous. Even my best runners seldom come back with any new artifact. Everything that comes from that place is cryptic and potentially lethal. We don’t know if the destruction was intentional or accidental, but we know that it is the only remaining city of the Dawn Race. It stands as a grave monument to some great catastrophe. Nothing good could come of this visit. As Defender of the Ancient Ways, for your safety and the good of the realm, I couldn’t allow you to continue on that path.”

  Tashi looked down at the raggedy man and explained, “I’ll take no loot from the City as you’ve done. I seek only the right of petition. Once a pilgrim reaches this stair and declares his intent, the Keepers of the Ancient may not stand in his way. Indeed, if you were a true follower of these ways, you would’ve offered me food and a bed to aid me on my journey.”

  In the shadows behind the emperor, his bodyguard Ginza winced at the rebuke. However, Sandarac showed no such remorse. “Oh, I intend to offer you a room, sir. Just which room depends on the answer to my next question. No such petitions have been granted in living memory. Having established the impossibility of your pilgrimage, what is your next greatest goal, your highest aspiration?”

  Tashi considered this and then answered, “To shut down the abomination to the south known as the Temple of Sleep.”

  Sandarac sputtered, unable to contain his fury. “I will crush you! By the time my people are through, you’ll beg to serve my empire, if only to end your misery.”

  “Victory is in the final blow of the sword,” Tashi quoted, not intimidated by the beggar’s promises or threats.

  Hidden in the solarium behind the fluted columns of the veranda, Ginza spoke in an effort to calm his liege. Raising a hand against such a holy man would be a bad omen indeed. “Highness, the sheriff is correct in one respect. Past experience has proven that, while on this mountain, no chains will hold him, no door bar his way. The sole person who can impede such a pilgrim is the pilgrim himself.”

  For a moment, the same fire burned behind the emperor’s eyes as the small man’s. “Let it be so, then. Hisbet, he’s yours. Let him be held in the room without doors. He shall not descend my mountain until his secret is revealed.”

  Chapter 48 – The Room without Doors

  The room without doors was at the pinnacle of a round tower with a conical roof. The interior was less than four paces in diameter and seemed taller than it was wide. The effect was enhanced by the fact that the room was bare except f

  or a bed mat and two large cushions. Nothing weapon-like was permitted in the cell. The floors were porous, white stone, several cubits thick. Once inside this cell, no one had ever escaped, though a few had opted for suicide.

  The exit was though a sliding panel in the ceiling. The ladder had to be lowered from above. After dark, the Nightfall effect kept anyone from putting their head above eaves’ level and surviving. By daylight, a narrow drawbridge ran from the roof across a seven-pace chasm to an even narrower ledge chiseled out of the rock of the steep mountainside. From there, a staircase went upward to a guard shack with a large bell and two arrow slits facing the approach.

  When the sun sank below a certain mark on the shack window, the guards locked the sliding door, pulled back the drawbridge, barred the top of the stairs, and ran. There was no passage down below the Nightfall line for half an hour’s walk, and then the descent passed through another security control point. A squad of veteran Keepers made sure no one from below could pass into the City of the Gods and that nothing from above could be smuggled back without their knowledge.

  The priestess performing the interrogation was nervous, checking to make certain that the sheriff was still unconscious on the mat before continuing to write her report. After a day’s effort, she had little to show. The woman, thin and pale, was covered from head to toe in layers of veils. Each veil represented a secret of her order: the Weavers of Dreams. It would’ve been so much easier to break him in the temple, under the Great Eye. The Eye was a round, stone window set atop an ancient door, the highest point on the ruins of the old temple. Through the stone window, she could have watched what her subject was dreaming. Instead, she had to fumble around blindly here.

  On a fresh piece of parchment, the priestess scribbled a note to Zariah. “Hypnotic trigger established for subject. Large reservoirs of self-hatred that aid his ascetic and military life will also make him easier to control. Likewise, the numerous episodes of physical pain in his past will give us weapons. Maps of Tamarind and personnel profiles complete. Concentrating on deepest secret. A lover. Several taboos involved. Keeps calling her name, as mentioned before. Each time I get close, he evades. Very strong defenses; progress slow. Even the word ‘birthday’ can send him into seizures. Plum scent helpful. Will try to accelerate questioning with physical enhancement.”

  The priestess hesitated before adding the last. Given the intensity of past reactions, it was dangerous terrain. A thump behind her made the veiled woman jump. Her breathing returned to normal when she saw the guard lowering her afternoon meal on a string from the ceiling. “Less than four hours, miss. Will you be staying the night with him?”

  “Not if I am successful. I have another message for her holiness. Don’t disturb me for any reason until sundown warning. Even then, ring the bell before opening the hatchway. The slightest sunlight could be disastrous, and I’ll hold you responsible.”

  The guard nodded. After she removed the bread and fruit, she placed the report in the meal bag. After sealing her in again, this trusted guard would relay the message to the aviaries from whence it would reach Zariah herself.

  Soon, the subject’s eyes moved again beneath their lids. The tattooed man was dreaming. Safe from interruptions, she began the process again. Calming herself and lighting the incense, she entered a near-dream state herself. Once there, the priestess touched her subject on the center of his forehead and whispered the word ‘nightingale’. Tashi was now conditioned to describe aloud what he was seeing and responded to her subtle suggestions.

  For the tenth time, they entered the secret garden. Tashi climbed in through the well exit at night to steal the guildmaster’s plums and enjoy a moment of privacy. He was sitting snug in a tree eating when someone carried a lamp into an upstairs room that faced the courtyard. The window was less then ten paces away and covered by a thin, gauzy curtain. However, shapes and movement could be seen through the veil. All of these apartments belonged to the guildmaster. His people would certainly report Tashi if he were caught. The punishment for an outsider found there was death. But being a foster child of the man, his sentence might be commuted to mere exile. Tashi held very still as the lamp settled into position on a table in the center of the room.


  Then Tashi fell silent, holding his breath. He shared nothing of his dream.

  After the priestess pressed for details, he whispered, “It’s a woman. She’s getting ready for bed.”

  “Brushing her hair?” guided the priestess.

  “Yes, long hair. Humming to herself.”

  “A lady of the house. Taking off her shoes?”

  “Unbinding, yes.”

  “Washing?”

  Silence.

  “Her arms, her legs?”

  “All of it.”

  “All?”

  His breathing deepened.

  “Naked?”

  Tashi moved his head to the side to avoid something.

  “Isn’t she pretty? Don’t you like her? Don’t you want her?”

  A rise in the sheet told her the answer to this question.

  “Why aren’t you watching? No one will know.”

  He squeezed his already-closed eyes even tighter. “She looked at me through the curtain. Somehow, she knows I am here.”

  “But she’s not calling the guards, is she? What does she do instead?”

  “She puts a hand through a part in the curtain and beckons.”

  “With her finger?”

  “I saw much more.”

  “Did she have long nails?”

  “They leave marks on a man.”

  The priestess smiled and took notes. “o you climb through her window?”

  “No! Run!”

  “You can tell me; no one else will know,” the priestess whispered. “She had long nails and she wanted you in that bedroom with her. Why run?”

  “Can’t… foster sister. Not honorable.”

  “But you wanted her. You did end up in that room, didn’t you?”

  Tashi’s body arched and twisted.

  “You went to the room for something else, with all the right intentions. Tell me about it.”

  “Her mother was the only one who could help. She understood arranged marriages. Lonely. Find a way around the laws. Be happy.”

  “Something happened.”

  “Redecorating. Never meant to…” He kept shaking his head.

  The priestess knelt beside him, leaned over, and placed her hand under the sheets. “You went to talk to the mother, but she was there instead. The one with the body, and the long nails. In that room. Alone.” The subject began panic-breathing, the type that usually signaled the onset of an episode. To break him, she had to take him through that scene and learn every hidden morsel. “You’re there now, watching yourself from above. Safe. She promised to keep your secret if you did what you really wanted to all along.” The priestess slid her hand downward until she touched flesh.

  At the contact, Tashi shouted, “Not again! You can’t make me!” As he jerked to a sitting position, his forehead accidentally connected with the side of the priestess’s nose with a sickening crunch. Pain and tears blinded her as she collapsed in a sobbing heap. Tashi looked around the smoky, doorless circle for a moment, dazed.

  When the priestess overcame the initial shock, she removed the covering over her nose and mouth to check for blood. Finding none, she then groped at her side for a bowl of powerful sedative powder. As soon as Tashi saw her hand move, he instinctively grabbed her wrist. With his left hand, he seized the weapon himself. When she began a great intake of breath to scream for help, he tossed the entire contents of the bowl into her face. He had to hold his own breath and grip her until the coughing and thrashing stopped.

  Tashi wiped the toxic residue from his hands, face, and clothing with one of her veils. After a long drink of water, the sheriff searched for a way to escape the room. He’d just used the first few veils to bind and gag the unconscious priestess when the ceiling panel shifted. He flipped the sleeping mat up to protect himself from any potential rain of arrows. No arrows came. The square of sky he could see was gray and overcast.

  A voice from an earlier dream said, “I see you didn’t need my help with that little problem. But come along before it gets too late. The other one will be back soon.” A rope ladder dropped and Tashi saw no other option but to climb.

  Once on the roof, he marveled at the quality of light that filtered through the clouds. All colors seemed drab or muddy, but anything white like his kalura stood out brightly by contrast. The man beside him seemd to blend in with the dun surroundings; only the whites of his eyes shone through the gloom. His strong legs and stocky build and uniform proclaimed him a Keeper, but he wore no blade. The grim man handed over a neat stack with Tashi’s chainmail shirt, tuning fork, and assorted belongings. The sheriff wasted no time in donning everything. When he was dressed and wore his symbols of office, Tashi said, “You didn’t bring me a weapon.”

  The Keeper grunted. “You have no Honor in this place.”

  “And you wear none because you fear I would steal your family Honor?”

  The Keeper’s eyes flicked to the mountain. “I’ve already given mine to my son. I don’t expect to survive this journey.”

  Tashi bowed his head to the man. “You’ll not be harmed at my hand. But why did you come?”

  The Keeper pointed upward. “You’re a legitimate seeker being kept from the Stair. The gods of this place don’t look kindly on that injustice. It’s my responsibility to set that right. When you see the gods, tell them that Ginza and the Keepers are loyal.”

  Tashi nodded. Remembering the previous Door to Eternity, he said, “You could come along and tell them yourself.”

  The eyes glared at him. “There can be only one per generation. You know that. This has been the rule since the time of the first Keeper. I must obey that law, for I’m chief among them. My fate isn’t your concern. But I would ask you: did you mean what you said about closing the Temple of Sleep forever?”

  Tashi nodded. “I’ll do what I have said.”

  Ginza sighed. “Then all is well. Come, the emperor has destroyed too much of the old stairway. I’ll lead you to the new, easier way. The emperor has built a rail system to transport workers, food, and equipment back and forth. If we hurry, we can be taken up in a counterweight car as the workers come down early to avoid the storm.”

  As they climbed past the guard post, Tashi saw the body of a dead guard, also a Keeper. The sheriff raised an eyebrow. Ginza didn’t pause. “He was a traitor who worked for the harlot of dreams, not the mountain or the law of the ancients. His death helps clean our people.”

  Tashi said, “You knew him, then?”

  The Keeper said softly, “My brother. I’d hoped to be wrong.”

  They said nothing as they jogged along the narrow, stone path. A smooth, shiny rut had been worn in the center over the years. When they reached the control point, Ginza led them up instead of down to the fortress. On the mountainside above were four metal rails leading up a steep incline. Two of the rails had covered mining carts at their base. Ginza pointed to the nearest, and said, “Climb in.”

  The sound stirred someone locked in a small storage shed nearby. Tashi ignored muffled cries for help.

  Ginza opened the large cart lid and signaled him over. In the main compartment, the workers had to lay flat on their backs inside. It reminded Tashi of a group coffin. The Keeper then opened a second, smaller door leading to the storage compartment below. “Squeeze into the cargo area. No one will look there. When the voices stop, you may climb out. Time will be short then, so you’ll need to run. The place you want is at the center of the City of the Gods. It’s a stairway that ascends several cubits into the air without any visible means of support.”

  Tashi nodded, rubbing the special coin in his pocket. “I’ll find it.”

  Ginza grew quiet, unsure what to say. “No one has succeeded at your quest in a very long time, even before the Silence. It’s likely you’ll die.”

  “The laws of chance and probability bend like trees in the winds of destiny. I feel a debt to you that I cannot repay. Could you not at least come with me to the place of offering?”

  Ginza swallowed. “So
meone must work the machinery and silence the workers returning, at least long enough for Nightfall to decide matters one way or the other. If you do all you say, it’ll be enough for me.”

  Tashi bowed to him again before crawling into the cramped cargo area. Ginza said no more, but closed him into the wooden box. Within minutes, the wheels were turning. Tashi was moving upward in darkness.

  Chapter 49 – The Land Between Two Rivers

  Jotham the Tenor and Brent, his twelve-year-old apprentice, drifted down the widening river that ran toward the Inner Sea. Days later, they docked at a humble port called the Land Between Two Rivers by the original settlers and la

  ter shortened to Turiv. The low, sprawling city wrapped around them on three sides, and the wide, misty expanse of the Inner Sea stretched ahead. The tell-tale, dark ribbon of the Emperor’s Road was visible on both shores. The green- and black-swathed slopes of the Lone Mountain towered over them to the north.

  The boatman let them off at the docks on the west bank so they’d be outside Semenosian territory and bade them a hasty farewell. Since most of the watercraft in the area had been taken over by the military, a multitude of stranded passengers and loads of cargo were now crowded on the docks. People were willing to pay outrageous sums to be carried on the river, and the boatman was eager to collect. The monk decided to return to his homeland with the first heavily packed load. In the awkward silence that followed, Brent hugged him about the waist as if he were a departing relative. Because the travelers had nothing, the monk pressed his coin purse and solid, wooden staff into Jotham’s hand without a word. Upon examination, the wood proved to be from the Sacred Grove, strengthened by years of faithful service.