The High Priest and the Idol

by Jane Fletcher

  With a clear choice between Keliah and Orasies, they had each taken one to investigate. Tevi squared her shoulders and marched through the doorway of her allotted blacksmith. The main room of the forge was at least thirty feet deep and twice that in width. The walls were hung with dozens of examples of metalwork, in various stages of completion—weapons, armour, tools, and ornaments. The range and complexity of the items made an impressive array, as was undoubtedly Keliah’s intention.

  In the middle of the rear wall stood a brick-built furnace where a boy in his early teens was methodically pumping the bellows. Presumably he was Keliah’s apprentice, which was not promising if Jemeryl had been right about Larric’s informant being female. A gaunt elderly man stood by a bench to one side. He had been squinting along the length of a contraption consisting of three parallel rods when Tevi entered. He put it down and scowled at her.

  “Do you want something?”

  “Are you the owner?”

  “Yes. So what are you after?”

  Tevi suspected her shabby clothes contributed to the lack of welcome in his voice. She did not look like someone who could afford Keliah’s merchandise or services.

  “My mistress has sent me. The clasp on this has broken and needs repairing.” Tevi held out a small brooch.

  Keliah wiped his hands on his apron and strode over, but at the sight of gold, his attitude softened from hostile to merely curt. “Give that here.”

  While he examined it, Tevi stood back demurely. She had bought two brooches from the market that morning, one for herself and one for Jemeryl. Now she had met Keliah, Tevi was grateful she had been able to afford something he would take seriously. He was clearly not the sort to chat with riff-raff.

  “It happened on the journey here. We arrived late last night. My mistress sent me out, first thing this morning to find the best bl—”

  Keliah cut through Tevi’s words, shouting at his apprentice. “Daqui! What do you think you’re doing? Don’t stab at it.”

  “Sorry, sir.” The boy’s forehead knotted in concentration as he painstakingly worked the bellows.

  The blacksmith turned back to Tevi. “Someone’s been rough-handed with this.”

  Keliah’s tone was sharp, making it sound as if he was accusing Tevi of damaging the brooch on purpose. Admittedly, this would have been absolutely correct, but it did not stop Tevi feeling irritated. Although she was playing the part of a servant, she was still a customer, and might expect a little civility from the blacksmith. However, getting into an argument would not help.

  Tevi tried to look shamefaced. “I know. My mistress was very angry. It’s not her best jewellery, but it has memories for her. That’s why I came to you. I’ve heard yo—”

  “I can look at it tomorrow.”

  “Thank you. I know my mistress will be happy to wait.” Tevi spoke quickly, hoping to get to her point before she was interrupted again. “With your reputation you must be very busy. Before coming here I asked around town to find the best blacksmith, and everyone I spoke to was ver—”

  “The price will be six florins.”

  Tevi’s attempt had failed. Keliah’s clearly had no interest in hearing flattery from a mere servant. From his expression, he was insulted that Tevi had even dared to ask questions about his workmanship.

  “My mistress has only authorised me to pay up to four.”

  “Five.”

  “I cannot say, but if she’s pleased when she picks it up, maybe. And I’m sure—”

  “Daqui! I told you to go easy. I didn’t tell you to fall asleep. Can’t you see the colour of the coals?” Again, Tevi had lost the blacksmith’s attention.

  The boy ducked his head, as if fearing a blow. “Yes, sir. Sorry.”

  Tevi made one last attempt to steer the conversation. “I’m sure she’ll be pleased. I’ve heard your work is good enough for the temple. Someone said Sefriall herself has called on your services. That must—”

  “Tell your mistress she can pick it up the day after tomorrow.”

  Tevi gave up. “Thank you. I will.”

  She turned away. Keliah was clearly not about to tell her anything. Maybe, if Jemeryl came by to collect the brooch, dressed more expensively, she might have better luck. Or maybe Keliah was uniformly rude to everyone, regardless of status. Already he was back yelling at his apprentice.

  “By Toqwani’s balls, boy! Are you blind or stupid?” Keliah raised his voice yet louder. “Vorn. Come and take over from this imbecile.”

  Tevi paused at the doorway and glanced back. A young woman wearing a heavy leather apron and gloves appeared from a back room. Soot and oil darkened her face. She was a few years older than the unfortunate Daqui. Vorn must be either a journeyman or a second apprentice. Was this the person Larric had spoken to? Tevi studied the woman. How to find out? Tevi was quite sure Keliah would not let his employees stand around idly gossiping with customers.

  Tevi left the forge, consoling herself with the idea that tracking down Vorn might prove unnecessary. With enough luck, Orasies would have turned out to be a cheerful chatterbox, who had not only told Jemeryl all about her trouble with Sefriall’s mysterious locked door but had provided a detailed map of the way there, with all guard points and other hazards carefully noted.

  In wishful thinking, there really was no point going for half-measures.

  *

  When Jemeryl returned to their agreed rendezvous point, she was not surprised to see Tevi already there waiting. The visit to Orasies’s forge had taken far more time than expected.

  “Sorry I was so long.”

  “That’s all right.” Tevi’s smile of greeting held a querying edge. “I’d been hoping it meant your blacksmith was bombarding you with more information than you knew what to do with, but judging by your face, it didn’t work out that way.”

  Jemeryl sighed heavily. “No. Afraid not. How about you?”

  “The only things Keliah would lower himself to tell me was how much the repair would cost and when I could pick it up. But I’m sure if I’d said I wanted to hang myself he’d have told me where I could find some rope.”

  “Not what you’d call friendly?”

  “Hardly.”

  “Orasies wasn’t so bad. Although she seemed to think she needed to use little words when she spoke to me. And she ignored me as soon as anyone else came in—which happened twice. That’s why I took so long.”

  “It’s the clothes. We don’t look like their class of customer.”

  “Probably. But it meant I got to hear her full sales pitch two times, complete with name dropping. For what it’s worth, she didn’t brag about working for the High Priest at the temple.”

  “Maybe spending a couple of days being unable to open a door isn’t something she wants to brag about.”

  “True. And Sefriall had been making nasty threats about gibbets and things. Orasies might be trying to push the whole thing from her mind.”

  Tevi tipped her head at the nearby forge. “From what I saw of Keliah, Sefriall could sell tickets in town when she had him hung. If I was his apprentice, I’d want to book a front-row place.”

  “Did you see the apprentice?”

  “Yes.”

  “A young woman?”

  “Nope. A boy, but there’s an older girl working for Keliah as well. From her age, I’d have guessed she was a journeyman.”

  “I’m sure Larric said it was the blacksmith’s apprentice who told him about the door.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t appreciate the difference. Most sorcerers aren’t too bothered about trade guilds and how they licence their members.”

  “Maybe. Though it’s equally possible she wasn’t the person he spoke to. But that’s our next step, seeing if we can copy what he did and talk to people. Larric was making a round of the taverns and eating houses, trying to pick up gossip. If he spoke to any tradesfolk, it would most likely be during their lunch break. Which ought to be around about now.”

  “That’s if Keliah let
s his workers take time to eat.”

  “We’ll see.” Jemeryl pointed to a tavern. “That’s midway between the two blacksmiths. Their employees might pop in for lunch. We could see if we overhear anything. If not, we can move on to another tavern.”

  Jemeryl started to walk away, but before she could take a step, Tevi grabbed her arm. “We can do better than that. Look. Do you see the woman who’s just left Keliah’s? That’s the journeyman I saw there. She’s cleaned herself up, and taken off her protective wear, but it’s definitely her.”

  “Do you think she’ll recognise you?”

  “I doubt it. She never glanced my way.”

  “Great. Let’s see where she goes.”

  The young woman hurried along the street. She went past the tavern and ducked into a narrow alley immediately after it. Jemeryl and Tevi sauntered in pursuit. They did not want their quarry to get too far ahead, but neither did they want to attract attention by running. Fortunately, they turned the corner just in time to see her disappear through a doorway a few dozen yards further along.

  The rich smell of hot food filled the alley and Jemeryl was not surprised, when they reached the open door, to find a cheap eating house inside. She felt a surge of optimism. The place was noisy and crowded, exactly the sort of establishment she could imagine Larric visiting in the hunt for gossip. Three long tables were squeezed in with barely room for a walkway between. Already most seats were taken, but she and Tevi were able to find a free spot on a bench immediately behind the woman they had followed.

  Despite the hubbub, Jemeryl was close enough to listen to the conversation behind her. The woman was clearly a regular and knew most of the people on her table. Within a minute, Jemeryl had learned that the young woman’s name was short for Vorndashi, she had missed a good laugh the night before, her brother was due in later, her favourite parsnip bake was on the day’s menu, and as Tevi had suspected, she would pay good money to see her boss dangling by his neck.

  The food, when it arrived, was cheap and plentiful to the extent that Jemeryl could understand why the other patrons were willing to overlook the shortfalls in choice and quality, although for her own mind and stomach, the trade-off was not quite worth it. She and Tevi ate in silence, listening intently. However, no mention of the temple or locked doors cropped up. That would be too much to hope for.

  Jemeryl had eaten as much as she could bring herself to swallow when there was a round of good-byes and the general sound of movement from the table behind. Jemeryl glanced over her shoulder. Most customers on the table were leaving, and although Vorn was still finishing her dinner, surely she would soon be gone. Keliah did not sound like someone who would tolerate leisurely lunch breaks. Yet Larric had engaged someone in conversation. Surely Vorn was the person he spoke to.

  Making use of the drop in background noise, Jemeryl pitched her voice just loud enough for the woman behind to overhear. “It’s not the magic that’s gone. It’s the ability to work it.”

  Tevi took the cue. “What’s the difference?”

  “Old spells keep on working.”

  “You’re full of bullshit. What’d you know about it?”

  “The healer told me. When I showed her my broken arm.” Jemeryl waved the splint for emphasis. “She said she had a charm to speed up the knitting of bone, and all I’d need to do was to wear it on my wrist.”

  “Why didn’t she give it to you then?”

  “That’s just it. It was in a box with a magic lock. Now the healer can’t work any magic, she can’t unlock it.”

  Tevi crowed. “And you fell for that? She was just stringing you along.”

  “She’s a good woman. She wouldn’t lie.”

  “My arse.”

  Jemeryl had to fight the urge not to punch the air when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked around, trying to appear surprised.

  Vorn was leaning back to talk to her. “The healer most likely was telling you the truth.”

  “How would you know?” Tevi asked, keeping up her role as sceptic.

  “I’m a journeyman, working for Keliah the blacksmith. About a month ago, we got called up to the temple by Sefriall herself. She had a door she couldn’t unlock and she wanted him to sort it out. But he couldn’t. He said it was magic, and he ought to know.”

  “How? He ain’t a witch, is he?”

  Vorn picked up the remains of her lunch and shunted herself over to their table. Clearly, she liked to chat, and from what Jemeryl had heard about her employer, she would not get much chance at work.

  “Not quite. But Keliah used to have a bit of magical ability. Maybe not enough to count as a proper witch, but it was what made him such a good blacksmith. Since Ciamon made his idol, Keliah’s lost all that. He always was a pain in the arse. Now he’s just…phut.” Vorn’s face twisted in a grimace. “Soon as I can find another job, I’m leaving. It’s Daqui the apprentice I feel sorry for. He’s still indentured to the old bastard for another six years.”

  “Keliah was sure the lock was magical?” Jemeryl asked.

  “He said it was an ordinary lock, but someone had put a spell on it. Even though he’s lost his gift for magic, he knows how to spot things like that. But he had a hell of a job convincing Sefriall. I tell you, I was shitting myself. I thought we were both going to get strung up.”

  “You were at the temple with him, working on the door?”

  “Yes. Except the door wasn’t in the temple itself. It was on one of the buildings round the back.”

  Jemeryl’s throat constricted with the effort to keep her voice sounding neutral as she asked, “Which one?”

  “The old basilica. Where the convocation used to meet.”

  Tevi returned to her sceptical routine. “Who’d want to lock that by magic? What’s in there to worry about anyway?”

  “All the old idols from the temple. When Ciamon took over, he had them taken out and dumped in the basilica. He must have got someone to put the spell on it, as well. I can see why he wanted to keep the evil idols out of people’s hands. Someone might try to bring the other gods back.” Vorn frowned, clearly trying to think, although Jemeryl got the impression she was not very good at it. “But he was supposed to be the herald of the Cyclian gods. Why didn’t he leave their idols out?”

  “Who knows? But that’ll be why Sefriall wanted the door open. She wants to get her old idols back in the temple,” Jemeryl suggested.

  “You could be right. The ones in there at the moment are a bit rough.” Vorn mopped up the last of her meal with a piece of bread and then stood. “I’ve got to go. Nice talking to you.” She turned and left.

  Jemeryl stared at the unwanted food congealing on her plate and laughed softly as a sudden realisation struck her. Why had she not thought of it before?

  “What is it?” Tevi asked.

  “I told you Ciamon didn’t like lying. He told the truth. He said the emanator was in the idol. He just didn’t specify which idol.”

  *

  Tevi counted to twenty. She did not know whether to be pleased or despairing when the two sentinels reappeared, exactly on cue, in the patch of moonlight by the kitchen. The predictability would make her task so much easier, but it pained her professional sensibilities that the holy warriors had not grasped the concept of varying their patrol route. They also seemed to have no idea that the point of sentry duty was to be alert for potential trouble. Neither had spared a glance for the herb garden as they passed. Tevi shook her head. A dozen fighters could have been hiding in the deep shadow of the bushes, rather than just her and Jemeryl.

  “Will you have time to climb in?” Jemeryl asked, once the sentinels had gone.

  “No problem. I’ll just wait until the other two cross behind the infirmary. You stay here until the first lot go by again, then I’ll drop a rope to pull you up.”

  “Fine.”

  “And keep an eye out, just in case someone varies their route.”

  “What if I do see someone?”

  “Here.”
Tevi picked up a dead branch and scratched it across the ground in three sharp bursts. “Make a signal exactly like that. If whoever you’ve spotted hears it, they’ll just think it’s a rat in the bushes.”

  “Supposing there’s a real rat making a noise round here?”

  “We only need worry about the rats that can count to three.”

  Right on cue, the second patrol marched into view, around the basilica. Both Tevi and Jemeryl became silent and motionless until the sound of the two sentinels’ footsteps had faded behind the infirmary.

  “Right. Here I go.”

  Tevi reached over and squeezed Jemeryl’s hand, then scooted across the twenty yards of moonlit gravel between the herb garden and the basilica. The foot of the wall was in shadow. Tevi ducked into it and crouched with her back pressed against the stone, listening. No shouts, whistles or running footsteps. So far, so good.

  Coiled over her shoulder was a length of rope with a grapple. Tevi shook it loose and stared up. The row of windows was twenty-five feet above her head. The basilica was an old building, in a plain architectural style. The windows were no more than small unglazed holes with an arched top. Getting through would be a tight fit, but she expected to manage it without difficulty, unless Ciamon had also thought to protect the windows against intrusion.

  The idea of poison or fireball traps was worrying, although Tevi was sure that Ciamon lacked the imagination to think of entering by any way other than the door. Jemeryl had been equally certain he would never have used any malicious spells even if he had, but there was only one way to find out.

  Tevi swung the iron grapple in a circle and launched it at the window opening directly overhead. Luck was with her and on the first attempt, the pointed tines caught on the lip and held firm. Tevi gave one sharp tug to test and then started to climb.