The Curse Giver

by Dora Machado

  “I doubt the gods will hear your prayers,” Eligious said. “You’ll also surrender your weapons.”

  Lusielle could tell the obligation grated on Bren, but he had to comply if he wanted the temple’s protection. He lay down his sword and his hunting knife at the Pious’s feet.

  “I commend my weapons to Suriek’s shrine,” Bren said. “I’ll have my rooms now.”

  “Have you forgotten the fee?” Eligious said. “The code made provisions so that lordlings like you couldn’t claim sanctuary just to eat us out of our food or loot our coffers to finance a life of leisure. You need to purchase your refuge with a fee.”

  Bren’s proud bearing stiffened. Orell had stripped him of all his valuables during his capture and although he had retrieved his weapons, he had not had recovered his purse.

  “My men will bring you coin as soon as I send for it,” Bren said.

  “A coinless lord.” Eligious sneered. “What a sorry state of affairs. I’m afraid the code is very clear on this point.”

  “You make a living out of extending credit to highborn and baseborn alike.”

  “Given your particular circumstances, you’re not exactly what I’d call a good investment. High risk. Low returns. Bad odds. Sorry, Brennus. My money lenders won’t even consider your request.” Eligious swept his arm towards the gates. “I suggest you leave.”

  The scar on Bren’s face lit like a flame.

  Lusielle tugged on his sleeve.

  “Not now,” he muttered between his teeth.

  Lusielle dug in her pocket and pressed the three gold coins that Tatyene had given her into Bren’s palm. “Will this do?”

  “How—?”

  “Will it work?”

  “Someday, I’m going to pay you back.” Bren squeezed her hand and stepped forward, holding out the coins. “Gold for the gods. You have no reason to refuse me now.”

  The glare Eligious aimed at Bren made Lusielle cringe. She hated to part with her only coin, but she realized that it was an investment in the future. There would be no tomorrow for her or Bren unless they managed to survive the day, no chance of refuge without coin.

  As to her prospects without the money, she had skills she could use to finance her journey and she wasn’t afraid of hard work.

  She glowered back at Eligious, and he must have felt her anger, because his eyes shifted from Bren and focused on her, a careful, appraising stare.

  The expression on the Pious’s face was far from kind as it shifted from scornful, to interested, to triumphant. “May I see your ring, dear?”

  “My ring?” Lusielle stammered. “Nay, I’m not—I have no ring.”

  “Of course you don’t.” Eligious turned to his attendants. “You, take the Lord Brennus to his rooms. The rest of you, throw this baseborn slut out of my temple.”

  The hands seizing Lusielle were harsh and determined. The Ascended dragged her towards the gates, towards Orell, towards the kind of death she had already escaped and couldn’t fathom confronting again.

  “Wait!” Bren’s voice rose above the others, stilling the Ascended. “This woman is under my protection.”

  “I’m aware of the type of ‘protection’ the house of Uras likes to offer,” Eligious said. “She might want to thank me for the favor of sending her away.”

  “The favor is not for you to offer.”

  “I won’t have blood spilled in my temple.”

  “I swear it on my house’s honor.”

  Eligious scoffed. “That’s shifty territory, isn’t it? Throw her out.”

  “You’ll forfeit the code if you to throw her out.”

  “Baseborn are not entitled to sanctuary,” Eligious said. “I’m under no obligation.”

  “She’s part of my retainer, and as such, she’s entitled.”

  “But is she really part of your retainer? Or are you just trying to dishonor this temple?”

  “She’s not what you think—”

  “Well then, what types of ‘other’ services does she provides for you?”

  “She’s my … err … my—”

  “—Remedy mixer.” Lusielle shook herself free from the men’s hold. “A very gifted one, as the lord here will attest. I can do potions, infusions and brews. I handle tinctures, elixirs, tisanes, decoctions and macerates. I’m known for my salves, oils and lotions. If you need it, I can mix it. I’m a particularly good at treating sores and boils, especially those Izar sets upon the unclean. I can prepare remedies for your Ascended while I’m here, if you’d like. No offense to your temple’s healer— I’m sure you have a good one—but without the proper remedies, what good can a healer do?”

  Lusielle had just mounted her own little offensive. The Pious suffered from some kind of illness of the groin, a boil maybe, she deduced from watching his painful gait. Everybody knew that sickness among the pure was considered the worst omen. Disease was a sign of the gods’ wrath. In the past, mere rumors of illness had ended many a Pious’s rule.

  The situation had to be even more perilous for Pious Eligious. With the White Tide set to begin and the high worshipping season at its peak, he would be desperate for a cure. Teos was about to call. The temple’s seasonal inspection was imminent. Not only would Eligious scuttle his chances to become a Chosen if he was sick when Teos’s representatives arrived, but he could be forced out of his rank and deposed from the temple if he was found impure.

  Lusielle’s veiled threat worked, at least for the moment.

  “She cannot be allowed inside the third wall,” Eligious said.

  “She won’t go to the higher temple,” Bren pledged.

  “Are you sure you want to linger here?” Eligious offered Lusielle a last chance out.

  A quick reminder of Orell standing outside the gates was sufficient. “I’m sure.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  A GROUP OF CANE-WIELDING ASCENDED ESCORTED LUSIELLE and Bren through the second wall’s gates and up the stairs leading to the apartments set aside for visiting highborn. The long, windowless halls and the winding stairs illuminated by torches gave the place a cavernous feel. The evenly spaced doors were indistinct from each other and unmarked, making each hall look exactly like the next.

  “This place is like a maze,” Lusielle whispered.

  Bren squeezed her hand. “You won’t be going anywhere without me.”

  Lusielle couldn’t tell if he meant to ease her worries or to warn her against any attempts at escaping him. She recalled he had made an oath to the Pious not to spill any blood while at the temple. That ought to offer some assurance.

  The Ascended leading them stopped before one of the doors and, unlocking it, gestured for them to enter, withdrawing quickly, leaving behind two of her cane-wielding peers stationed outside the door.

  “I guess the Pious won’t be taking any chances with us.” Bren inspected the chamber.

  It was an expansive room, with a high-beamed ceiling and a stone hearth, furnished with plush carpets, a dining table, comfortable chairs and an immense, carved bed. A set of double doors flanked by velvet curtains led out to a spacious balcony. From there, Lusielle could see the cultivated fields and the countryside, the crowded buildings cramming the extensive courtyard, and Orell and his riders, lounging by the gates.

  “The Pious is right,” Lusielle said. “In three days, Orell will be ready, waiting for us.”

  “True.” Bren leaned on the scrolled railing and mouthed the words. “That’s why we’ll be leaving before then.”

  “How?”

  He tapped on his ear, indicating someone else could be listening. “Leave the details to me.”

  A knock on the door announced the arrival of a steaming tray piled with food. A flurry of servants invaded the chamber, setting the table, carrying buckets of water and preparing the washing basins. They disappeared as suddenly as they had arrived, leaving a pile of clean folded garments on the bench.

  Lusielle washed her face and hands, admiring the opulent food selection. Despite her
grumbling stomach, the artful displays were almost too beautiful to disturb.

  Bren, on the other hand, had none of her compunctions. He stabbed a chunk of garnished lamb and handed it to her along with the gilded knife, then plopped down on a chair and began to ravage the meal. He chewed fast, eating great quantities of food, picking portions from one platter then the next, as if trying to make up for all the dinners he had skipped as well as those he could potentially miss in the future.

  Lusielle dunked a chunk of freshly baked bread in the rich broth and tasted glory. “Hmm,” she said. “These people know how to eat.”

  “A life of service to the gods has its privileges.”

  Lusielle hesitated before asking. “Why does the Pious hate you so much?”

  Bren’s eyes focused on his plate. “Few people like me.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Lusielle said. “Why is that?”

  “Drink,” he said, pouring from a pitcher, filling her cup. “You need your strength.”

  The frothy draft tasted fresh, thick and spicy, warming her gullet all the way to her stomach, then sending a fearsome blast to heat her cheeks. She had to fan her face. “No wonder they have visions.”

  Bren laughed, an honest sound that was still new to her ears. “The sacred brew has a punch to it, doesn’t it?”

  He took a last bite of his roast and without delay, pushed away from the table and ducked behind the ornately painted screen where the basins had been set up.

  His dirty greaves dropped to the floor first, followed by his soiled clothes. Lusielle watched through the break at the bottom of the screen as his bare feet stepped into a copper basin. A bucket rose above the screen, disgorging a stream of water. The sounds of hard scrubbing filled the room. The fragrant smell of expensive soap scented the air, the heady aromas of cypress and sesame oils mixed with alkaline salt and fine ashes.

  Lusielle nibbled on a spoonful of perfectly seasoned mashed gourds, trying—without much success—to keep herself from glancing at the screen, where the breaks between the decorated partitions offered tantalizing glimpses of the man behind it.

  She had to admit it—the painted panels might be works of art, but the flashes of flesh she spotted in between the panels were as pleasant to the eye and far more provoking to the imagination.

  “I want you to stay here while I go to the high temple,” Bren said from behind the screen. “We’re not safe outside these walls, not even in the courtyard. Do you understand? No talking to anyone, no wandering around.”

  “As if I wanted to do any of those things.” She spotted the sponge, scrubbing his muscular arms, lathering a winding trail over his expansive chest.

  “You have no interest in worshipping the lesser gods?” he asked.

  “I worship the gods in my heart. Why should I need to visit them in little shrines?”

  “I’ve never had much use for temples either.”

  Water trickled over his muscled back as a shaving razor flickered against his throat. She spied a leg, a thigh, a careless flash of firm and shapely rump.

  Dear gods. This man was built completely different from Aponte. Was there fault in appreciating the sights even if it was without leave?

  She wrenched her stare from the screen and, concentrating on the food on the table, sank her fork into a chunk of roast. Thick and strong, kind of like his calves ….

  This had to stop. She surrendered the fork and, dipping her spoon into some kind of sweet custard, refused to look at the screen or the man behind it.

  She cleared her throat. “Eligious said you’d have to offer to the Triad.”

  “The code requires it, and the Pious won’t let me forget it.”

  “What is it like? To live by the code?”

  “With rule comes duty,” he said. “It’s second nature when you’re born of Onisious’s line.”

  “And yet, even by The Tale, we are all Suriek’s children.”

  “Are you familiar with The Tale?”

  “Of course I’m familiar with The Tale,” Lusielle said. “I might be baseborn, but I’m not ignorant.”

  “I didn’t mean to—”

  “First came Suriek, who traveled three layers from the underworld and perched her frozen soul atop the highest mountain,” she recited. “Freed by her new existence, she wept at the beauty of the world. Her tears filled the lake until it spilled over, flowing into the land’s deepest groove, birthing the Nerpes, granting life to the land. And from her tears, all gifting creatures spawned to delight her days.”

  “Very good.”

  “What about you, highborn? Are you familiar with The Tale?”

  “Remind me never to challenge you to a race,” he said, chuckling behind the screen. “Let’s see. With the world made, Suriek sought to share her joy. She called on her beloveds, who raced to her voice. Onisious traveled faster, claiming Suriek as his wife. His sweat fueled the Nerpes’s current and salted the soil. Ronerus arrived on his heels and became Suriek’s lover. His seed quickened the waters and fertilized the crops. And Suriek loved them both, for she was skillful, clever and proficient, generous in spirit and capable of great deeds.”

  “Shame those two could never get along,” Lusielle said.

  “They were jealous of each other,” he said.

  “You’ve got to admit, Ronerus’s seed was more prolific.”

  “I’ll say. How many children did he spawn from Suriek?”

  “Some nine hundred and ninety-eight gods and goddesses, more than enough to establish the foundation from which the baseborn were created.”

  “So you think that the term ‘baseborn’ refers to ‘foundation’?”

  “Let me guess,” Lusielle said. “You think that the ‘base’ in baseborn is some sort of lowly reference to the Goddess’s ancient marital status, as in ‘bastard born.’”

  “It’s widely believed—”

  “Spare me your highborn speculation,” she said. “You highborn composed The Tale.”

  “Is it my fault that my ancestors were highly accomplished and literate?”

  “Arrogant too, not to mention highly disconnected from the rest of the world.”

  “We’re not exclusively flawed,” Bren said. “By all accounts, Ronerus’s children were a quarrelsome bunch.”

  “Interesting, diverse and—”

  “Unruly.” Bren peeked from behind the screen. “Wouldn’t you say?”

  “Poor Onisious,” Lusielle said. “He wasn’t exactly fruitful. He could only manage to spawn the Twins.”

  “But the Twins were strong and steadfast,” Bren said, “worthy of rule, like their father. And, don’t forget, the Twins’ union resulted in—”

  “I know.” Lusielle sighed. “Twenty-eight founders of the highborn ruling houses.”

  “The code says the same thing.”

  “The code is also your version of the world.”

  “The code was Suriek’s way to put an end to the divine wars,” Bren said. “I happen to think that Ronerus was a sore loser.”

  “And Onisious was an arrogant thug.”

  “Are we having an argument?”

  “A very old one, I think.”

  “Look at us, fighting the old battles,” Bren said. “I guess that’s why Teos was necessary, to preserve Suriek’s peace. Can you please fetch me a drying cloth?”

  Lusielle set down her spoon and went to find the cloth among the pile of garments. As she passed the cloth over the screen, something fell to the floor. It was a note. On impulse, Lusielle unfolded it and read it.

  “What are you doing?”

  The screen was no longer in between them. Lusielle’s views were neither restricted nor fleeting. The man standing before her wore nothing but a cloth wrapped around his trimmed waist. It was both irritating and alarming, but her mind took instant note of all the details.

  He stood on legs as thick as pillars. A light coating of coarse hair covered his well-developed calves and his powerful thighs, reemerging on the upper side of the c
loth in the guise of a tapering line ending at the flat belly button. It yielded to the distinct outline of his stomach muscles, his expansive chest and a strong pair of clavicles supporting his freshly shaven neck.

  She offered him the note without meeting his eyes.

  “Where did you find this?”

  “It fell out of the cloth just now.” She gulped. “What does it say?”

  “It’s none of your concern.” He stomped to the fireplace, fed the parchment to the flames, shoved his legs into a pair of black breeches and donned a clean shirt, displaying the sudden change of mood that perturbed her beyond words. “I won’t have you snooping around.”

  She clenched until her teeth ached. “Why would I have cause for snooping around?”

  “You have cause, I know you have cause.” He tugged on his boots. “I’m not a fool, and neither are you, although perhaps a tad of idiocy would’ve made matters easier between us.”

  “What matters?”

  “Why do you have to ask so many questions?” Bren stomped to the door. “Listen to me. If we’re going to get out of this place, you’re going to have to trust me, at least while we’re here.”

  “What happens after we leave here?”

  “I won’t make you false promises.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “Do you want me to lie to you?”

  “Why should I do anything you say?”

  “Because you have no choice,” he said, before slamming the door. “And neither do I.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  THE SMALL GROUP OF ASCENDED ESCORTING Bren materialized the moment he walked out of the chamber. Eligious was set on watching Bren’s every movement. Bren hadn’t expected it to be any different, but he had to find a way of getting rid of his escort. He had things he had to do, things he couldn’t do with a pack of Ascended trailing him.

  Bren took the steps in groups of three, leaping up the winding staircases, exiting the building onto a pitched walkway, following it around the base of the third set of lustrous walls, the tallest yet, topped by a handsome set of curled crenels.

  At the end of the walkway, he left his escort behind and crossed a small bridge to knock on the high temple’s ornate gate. A small window opened on the carved door, framing the caretaker’s face. Bren flashed his ring.