Blue fire erupting from her hand, Philiastra teased up large strong roots from the ground below, wrapping them around the alchemic crystals, and positioning them in the shape of a hexagon.
Holding her timer in her hand, Philiastra waited for the exact moment when the moon was directly overhead.
“Okay…now.”
She clenched her fist and the roots slammed the spikes into the bedrock. Glowing veins grew out along the floor and up the walls, bathing the room in an ethereal light of shifting jade and cyan.
“You’re getting better at that,” Erolina observed, taking a piece of fudge off the tray she carried and tossing it into her mouth.
Philiastra’s mood immediately darkened. “Oh wow, epterian fudge. And you’ve eaten half the tray. You are definitely not afraid of desserts, are you? Look at you, just piling it away, knowing that it will all end up on your thighs.”
Erolina swallowed curtly. “Perhaps you’d prefer if I was more like you, wallowing around in the mud like a pig, throwing together whatever random assortment of clothes my snout bumps into and pretending it’s a coordinated outfit.”
“I’m not muddy!” Philiastra protested, wiping some mud off her cheek with the back of her hand.
“Unlike you, I actually care about my appearance.”
“So, I’m not good at being feminine, so what? What are you doing down here, anyway?”
Erolina set down the tray. “I require information from you.”
“You insult me then you ask for my help?”
“You drew first blood.”
“Even so, what makes you think I’d want to help an amazon?”
“Your feelings towards me are irrelevant, nymph. As Ambera’s champion, I have authority to request your aid, which you are duty bound to give.”
“Wrong. I am not part of Ambera’s household. I was hired to come along on this expedition as a crystal tuner, so unless you have a signed command from my goddess, Jenala, I suggest you get out of here and stop impeding my work before I file a formal complaint.”
Erolina huffed impatiently. “I swear, you are as stubborn as he is.”
“Who?”
“Storgen. He is behaving strangely towards me.”
This piqued Philiastra’s interest. A root grew up from the ground behind her and she leaned against it. “Go on.”
“He will not speak to me. He refuses to acknowledge my presence.”
“Yeah, it’s called the silent treatment.”
“I fail to see what he hopes to accomplish administering such behavior.”
“Philia’s teeth, he’s not trying to accomplish anything. He’s mad at you.”
“Well, how long does this treatment customarily last?”
“I dunno. What you did was really bad. Hopefully, it will last forever.”
Erolina crossed her arms and thought. “We belong to the same household. If he were truly upset, he would have challenged me to a trial of grievance.”
“Yeah, that’s not his style.”
“You’re his friend, what would you recommend?”
“You sure you want my advice? You realize I can’t stand you. I might try to sabotage you.”
“I’ll risk it.”
Philiastra sighed. “As entertaining as that would be…look, you should at least apologize to him.”
“I cannot.”
“Sure you can, just stop stuffing your mouth with fudge and use it to form words instead.”
“No, you don’t understand. Amazons don’t apologize for anything.”
“How convenient for you.”
“It goes completely against the code of the huntress. No one needs to be forgiven for an action taken to bring glory to the tribe, because no sin has been committed.”
“Then why are you here bothering me? Since when do you care if someone is angry at you?”
“He’s not angry at me. He said he’s…disappointed.”
“Ah, my parents used that one on me. I’d rather they just yell at me, to be honest.”
“Yes,” Erolina said, a little furtively. “And the more he ignores me, the more uneasy I feel.”
Philiastra walked up and put her hand on Erolina’s forehead. She was so much taller, Philiastra almost had to go onto her tippy toes to do it.
“What are you doing?” Erolina asked.
“Checking to see if you have a fever.”
“Why?”
“Because you aren’t acting like yourself. You’re acting like a person who actually cares what someone else thinks.”
Erolina swatted the hand away. “I feel fine.”
Philiastra examined her closely. “Could it be, that beneath all that pride and arrogance, you actually have a conscience?
Erolina looked at her humorlessly. “Coming here was a mistake.”
“Clearly.”
“The truth is, I don’t know how to be a friend to a man, so I sought out an instructor.”
“And you came to me?”
“You seemed most qualified.”
“Oh, I know Storgen better than anyone, and I’ll tell you right now, you are toxic to him. Oh sure, you can bat your eyelashes and tempt him with your ridiculously firm backside and your great sense of style, but at the end of the day all you want to do is take, take, and take. He’s had so much taken from him already, the last thing he needs is someone like you taking even more from him.”
“This is because I’m an amazon, isn’t it?”
“You think? Before your people betrayed us, my clan was prosperous and peaceful. Because of you amazons, now there are so few of us left, I haven’t even heard of another forest nymph in over twelve years, much less met one. I may very well be the last of my kind. So, hear me now, amazon, because I’m going to put this plainly. I would rather die than help you get closer to Storgen.”
The moon sprite on her armband flashed angrily.
“Be quiet, Odelia,” Philiastra shot back. “No one asked for your opinion.”
Erolina huffed angrily, her hand on her hilt. “If I were not charged with the success of this mission, and if you were not vital to that success, I would grant your wish right here and now.”
“If. Now get out, I have work to do.”
Her eyes alight, Erolina spun around and walked up the spiral staircase, leaving her tray behind.
* * *
The rebuilt temple of Ambera was the largest and most beautiful edifice on all of Ápinso. Great spires like frozen flames, a winding bridge like a fox’s tail running over pleasantly rushing waters. The Apérantos river had been diverted to pass before the temple, allowing visiting ships to sail directly to her golden porch from the open waters beyond the harbor.
Gone were the blocky pillars in the traditional style of the golden proportions. In their place were pillared alleys of sapphire and jade, clear paths of new stone around fountains of shimmering pearl, and brightly lit passages atop encaustic tiles. Even the sanctuary was open now, as if her glory could not be contained by traditional walls.
The public bathhouse was beyond compare, so large it looked more like an artificial lake than a pool, with stepped platforms for preforming musicians, cascading waterfalls, and floating bonfires within great brass braziers.
Ambera could barely contain herself as she sat atop a stack of barrels brimming with ambrosia. She kicked her feet excitedly, leaning back as if it were the softest throne ever made.
“We just got the shipment from Vincenza, High Priestess,” Acantha reported, trying to swat the floppy ears of her fox costume away from her face.
The goddess clapped her hands. “Oh, marvelous, bring it here, I’ll use it as a foot stool.”
Ambera cackled happily as the barrel was cracked open and she set her glowing feet down into the golden liquid.
“Tee hee. This is amazing. I’ve never seen so much ambrosia in one place before. I feel like I’m finally sitting on a throne I deserve.”
“We’ve met Sirend’s quotas for the month in just a few days,�
� Acantha reported proudly.
“Send him next month’s tithes as well. I like getting things done ahead of time.”
“Since when?”
Ambera sat up straight, frightening many of the slaves. “Ooh. I should perform a miracle. A real miracle, like in the old days. Whaddya say, my high priestess? You want me to conjure a vision of one of your past lives? Or maybe divine what you’ll look like when you are reincarnated?”
“I’m flattered, my goddess. But, if you were to perform a miracle, wouldn’t it be better to do something more philanthropic? It would be great for your image.”
Ambera smacked her gum. “Like what?”
“Well, you could cure the red fever plaguing the Western Isles. I have family there and…”
“Pffft, that’s boring. I know, I’ll bathe in it. Bring me a bathtub of pure gold. I’m going to take a bath in ambrosia.” She rose up into the air and spun around in delight. “Oh, the opulence.”
“My goddess, that seems like an awful waste of worship.”
Ambera paused. “Come to think of it, why do we say ‘taking a bath?’ It doesn’t make any sense. Where are we taking it?”
Acantha scrolled through the glowing sigils in the air before her. “The security council is demanding that you react immediately. We’ve lost another village near the confederate border. Just like Dasikí Chará, all the inhabitants were found buried alive.”
“Wait. Did the tower manage to capture the human?”
“Hmm? Oh, Storgen? No, he evaded capture. But, I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the Isle of Sunat.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
Ambera blew a bubble and popped it. “Every day that human remains at large is another day the ambrosia flows here to me.”
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Just send some fresh settlers and let them deal with it.”
Ambera snapped her glowing fingers. “Call up Jabez. I want to see his smug face.”
“He’s been avoiding our calls,” Piers mentioned as he activated the whisper rings.
Acantha wiped some sweat from her brow. “My goddess, you’ve already extorted nearly every deity in the pantheon of Agadis.”
“Don’t worry. When we run out, we’ll start over again at the top of the list and extort them all a second time.”
The image of Jabez, the Grey God of Agadis, appeared before them.
“Excellent,” Ambera smiled, smacking her gum.
Jabez looked around in consternation. “Ahhhhh…Ambera. G-greetings.”
“You thought it was someone else, didn’t you?” she asked playfully
“Um, no…I mean…yes. Yes, I did.”
She traced her finger over the rim of the open barrel. “You wouldn’t have answered if you thought it was me, huh?”
He snarled, revealing a mouth full of daggered teeth. “I swear, Ambera, you’ll pay for this.”
“Oh? Is that a challenge?”
“What? No, I…”
“Because I’ve been eyeing your lovely Terracotta Province, and I think it would make a great addition to my dominion. And my special champion is just chomping at the bit for another match.”
“This is wrong and you know it.”
“Is it? Well then, what say we have your champion face mine and see what happens?”
“NO! Ahem. No, stop, I just lost a province to Krasi, my reputation can’t take a hit right now.”
She swirled her finger around in the ambrosia. “Then, you know what to do.”
He sighed in resignation. “How much will it, ah, take to convince you not to challenge me?”
“Oh, my goodness. “Is the Godfather of Justice offering me…?”
She looked around, feigning innocence.
“…a bribe?”
“Oh, drop the act. You’ve extorted everyone I know.”
“And many you don’t.”
She sat back on her throne of barrels, licking the golden liquid off her finger. Her skin burned brighter as it touched her lips.
“One quarter barrel. Delivered within twenty four hours.”
He winced. “Done.”
She smiled devilishly. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. We’ll talk again next month.”
“What? Next month? Wait…”
With a flick of a finger, she shut down the message.
Slaves grunted as they carted in a hastily smelted bathtub made from pure gold.
“Ah, excellent. Wow, that was quick. Where did you get the gold? Never mind. Why can’t you be quick like that, Acantha? So, what’s next on my agenda?”
Acantha pursed her lips in anger. “The crowds are gathering outside for the ribbon cutting ceremony.”
Ambera clapped her hands. “Excellent. Oh, this has been such a splendid day. I don’t think anything could ruin it.”
* * *
Kólasi had become a city unhinged. Released from the strict dogmas of Nisi and spurred on by Ambera’s priestesses, the population indulged and over-indulged in every diversion and pleasure formerly denied to them. The whole city was drunk with music, inebriated with song, flushed with laughter and lush with passion. They danced until they could barely stand on their feet, then warmed themselves by the plentiful bonfires of Nisi’s scriptures and scrolls, feasting and cheering until they found the strength to dance again, which they gleefully did, blissfully unaware that the comestibles were laced with spells to keep them perpetually awake and energized.
Merchants fought against the pressing throngs of people, trying to get their wagons to the monastery of Nisi, which had become the central hub of the festivities.
“Next!” Priestess Ophira boomed, her voice barely registering above the celebratory roar coming from outside.
The final monk stepped forward.
“Name?”
“Hosteller Eban,” he coughed through his long thick beard.
“There you are,” she said happily, making a final check as the priestesses beside her handed him his new kit. “Okay, here’s your new sacred vestments, your holy calendar, prayer scrolls, and scriptures.”
He watched blankly as a pair of workers began smashing the altar of Nisi to pieces with hammers.
Ophira leaned forward. “If I may be so bold. You don’t seem nearly as bothered by this change in management this as your fellow monks are.”
Eban shrugged. “Same tune, different piper.”
“That’s the spirit!”
There was a loud knock through the hall and the monastery doors opened to the streets beyond. A gypsy merchant poked his head in. Taking off his hat, he bowed reverently, keeping his eyes and his voice lowered.
“Um…I’m embarrassed to say this, but I’m here to deliver the booze and the festival dancers.”
“What are you whispering for? This isn’t a monastery anymore. This is Ambera’s satellite temple now.”
He looked up and put his hat back on. “Oh, all right then. I’m here to deliver the booze and the festival dancers!”
“Bring em in!”
The women and the wine flowed in, amid streamers and banners and more noise than the building had seen in a thousand years.
Paliágáta and his entourage of ailuros worked their way inside, the bright colors and skirts they wore instantly setting them apart from the drab humans singing and swaying in the streets.
“May our voices whisper to you from the ageless stone,” Paliágáta announced, waiting to be greeted.
Priestess Ophira stood up to greet them.
Paliágáta twitched his whiskers. “Your champion does not rise to greet us?”
Ophira looked over to where Storgen was sleeping atop the pipe organ, snoring loudly as he held a half-drunk bottle of milk. Giving him a quick smack to the head, he yelped, rolling over the keys and releasing a long dusty note before collapsing to the floor.
“May stones whisper voices…” Storgen mumbled, sitting up with a saucer on his head.
; The aged ailuros looked around with his feline eyes, his tails swishing disapprovingly. “I see my new masters have already stripped away everything of value.”
“You have nyo idea,” Storgen groaned as he stood up.
Paliágáta twitched his whiskers.
“Stop it, Storgen,” Ophira whispered through gritted teeth.
“My new master’s festival has filled the streets of our city with vomit and liquor,” Paliágáta hissed, glancing back at the debauchery. “When we swore to serve Ambera, we did so under the assurance that she would honor our traditions as Nisi had done.”
“He seems mad,” Storgen whispered to Ophira. “Maybe you should offer him a saucer of milk.”
“Quit it! That would just make it worse.”
With a final crack of the hammer, the altar split in twain and crumbled to the floor.
Ophira stepped forward. “I assure you that your traditions will be honored.
Paliágáta glanced at the remains of the altar. “Well, if that’s true, then where is your saucer of apology?”
Ophira gawked at Storgen. “Wait, that’s a real thing?”
Storgen poured a layer of milk into the saucer and held it out. The ailuros took it, each taking a small lick in turn with their sandpapery tongues.
Ophira could only look on in shock. “You’re kidding me.”
Paliágáta nodded. “Your apology is accepted.”
“Told ya so,” Storgen said with a wink.
Paliágáta handed the saucer back. “Tonight, we will hand over the key to the city to your designated couple.”
Ophira tilted her head. “Designated couple?”
“Yes, of course. The key can only be passed to a married pair. Surely you knew this.”
She looked around. “Um, yeah, of course we did, naturally.”
“And will your couple be present?”
“Um…”
Storgen stepped forward. “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“What are you doing?” Ophira whispered.
“Of course,” Storgen assured. “We’ll see you tonight.”
Paliágáta looked them over suspiciously. “Very well. If my masters will excuse me, I have a very important meeting to attend. I will see you all tonight.”
Ambrosia Page 45
