Girl watched us with a puzzled, pained sort of expression while we debated. Crazy female. She’d probably be even crazier after we got done with her. Since she’d joined us I could not recall having spoken with Tanris about our quest—where we were going or why. There’d been no reason. It did not concern her and she did not particularly concern me beyond the practical issues of food, transportation, and personal safety. Tanris had let her come with us, let Tanris deal with her. She got on well with his cat; they were made for each other. At the moment talking to me was as attractive a proposition as chewing oyster shells. His face and his… aura conveyed his pain.
“We should probably worry that a powerful wizard didn’t, or couldn’t, or wouldn’t make the journey himself,” I observed. “What have we got that he hasn’t?”
“I’d say you,” he pointed out sourly, “but he’s got you by the nose.”
“A temporary condition, I assure you.” The muscle in my jaw knotted.
“Sure it is.”
I didn’t like the insinuation I would either be dead soon or Duzayan would own me for the rest of my life, cooperation permanently assured with his blighted little concoction. “The map?” I reminded, waggling my fingers again.
Disgruntled, he reached into the depths of his coat and twenty-seven further layers of clothing meant to keep him warm and dry—and stilled for all of five heartbeats. He checked the other side. He checked up and down. He checked all his pockets, inside and out. “Crow…” he growled warningly.
I have yet to understand why he always blames me every time something doesn’t go exactly the way he desires. “What have you done with it?” I pressed, eyes narrowing even further.
“I haven’t done anything with it, you miserable snake! Hand it over!”
“I haven’t got it.”
“Don’t lie to me.” The look in his eyes promised a painful pounding, and clenched fists emphasized his intention. He took a step my way, and I took one backward.
“I haven’t got it!”
“This is no time for one of your stupid games! You cough it up right now, or I swear I will do you a serious damage.”
Unbelievable. I held my hands out to either side, empty, surrendering. “You’ve got me again, Tanris, congratulations. Now that we’re only a mile or so from from procuring the one thing I can trade to save my life, I am going to steal and hide the map so neither of us can find the wretched thing. With any luck at all, it will take us another week to figure out what it is we’re looking for and where exactly to find it. I will of course, do everything in my power to delay our success, because of course I want to die a dramatic and unbelievably painful death.” I paused for a breath. “Are you out of your mind?”
He glared at me, sparks fairly flying from his eyes. Such a thing was not possible—or it hadn’t been before we’d begun this miserable adventure. “Where is it, then, bird boy?”
“If I knew that, would I be asking you, dimwit? How could you lose the map? The map, by all the gods and goddesses! You – Augh!” I threw my hands up in the air. In my outrage I couldn’t even begin to devise words to describe his absolute stupidity. Worse, he blamed me for his utter lack of responsibility. It was a rare thing indeed for me to be completely bereft of speech, yet all I could come up with to compare him to were farm animals, and that seemed grievously insulting to the unfortunate beasts.
He growled and stabbed my direction with one finger. “If you think I’m going to let you get away with robbing me and costing me everything I care about, I am more than willing to educate—”
“That’s it.” I stared at him in sudden realization.
“What’s it?” His glower deepened, shaded sharply with suspicion.
“Remember the night I told you someone was in camp? And you didn’t believe me?”
He still didn’t believe me. “You can’t really think I’m going to buy that story.”
Half-a-dozen retorts surged to the tip of my tongue, but I bit them back. No sense wasting witticism on a brute. “You’re right again,” I said, turning away to go to Horse. “It would take all month to sell it to you, and I’ve better things to do with my limited time.” I swung up into the saddle, settled my hat on my head, and urged the mare forward.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I pointed to the village, but I didn’t look back.
— 19 —
Gifts of the Gods
The buildings surrounding the temple were sturdily built, stone for the most part and with polished wooden plaques over the doors depicting runes and, in some cases, stylized pictures. I examined those we passed close to, and found an abundance of bucolic talent. The people inhabiting the village were stocky and solid mountain folk. They tended their animals and barns and ditches and fences diligently until we appeared, and then they stopped to stare. A few of them approached to give us greeting and a pair of strapping boys kindly showed us the way to the temple that we couldn’t possibly miss.
A beautiful structure, it sprang right out of the mountainside as though a part of it, and up close it appeared even more incongruous than it had from afar. I had not at all mistaken the presence of fountains and statuary, and if the mountain people we had encountered had carved them I was a goat’s uncle. The details, the design, the decorations—all of it had been transported directly from the south lands and did not match the construction of the surrounding houses. Where the cottages had straight, modest roofs, the temple had one that was flaring and ornate. Where the cottage walls were rough stone, the temple walls were exquisitely dressed. The cottage fences were simple and rustic, the enclosures around the temple were significant barriers boasting ironbound gates worthy of any southern castle’s defenses. Two sturdy columns flanked them, on top of which perched a pair of fierce looking stone dragons. Over the entrance doors, tucked below the gable of a porch roof supported by a quartet of spectacular marble columns, sat yet another. Outspread wings looked as though they might lift the thing into flight, and its carved neck supported a head that hung right out over the path, gaping, toothy maw ready to snatch at unwary passersby. As we walked beneath, I could not help looking up at it and wondering what kept such a weight from falling. Or if maybe it sometimes came to life. And surely the dragons were not coincidental to our mission. An incongruous number of guards stood like statues all along the outer wall. Supposing they worked in shifts, three or four times as many lurked somewhere close by. The temple keepers were clearly on their guard against invasion by sheep farmers.
Inside, the reception area was worthy of any of the emperor himself. Stunning, clever insets decorated polished marble floors. The ceiling arched high overhead, its walls and ceiling pierced with long, narrow windows of imported glass. Fantastic paintings covered the panels between. Wax candles, not tallow, graced expensive brass candelabra in the shape of dragons with outstretched wings. A few choice items from the foyer alone would make me a wealthy man.
A guard hovered nearby as we gawked, but it was only a matter of moments before a servant escorted us into a spacious parlor where the magister awaited us. Ammeluanakar was tall and skinny as a stick, though not as old as one might expect of a man in his auspicious position. Both his Adam’s apple and his nose were sharp enough to use as weapons, though extreme nearsightedness guaranteed he’d never see his opponent until it was too late. It made the temptation to purloin some of his possessions difficult to resist. He had some very nice possessions. Still, I did not want to raise alarms before we had what we’d come for, and there were a plethora of brothers available to blow whistles or ring bells or whatever they did when outraged, and no doubt they would be.
It took me all of five seconds to realize this was the same Melly-something, from Duzyan’s letters. Not for the first time, I thought it might have been helpful had the baron told us a little something about what we were getting into. I cast a sideways glance at Tanris, but he either didn’t recognize him or he was a more accomplished actor than I gave him credit for.
They gave us tea.
I gave them a false name. “I am Fajhal, and this is my niece Etana.” Tanris was just a guard and not worthy of introduction. He didn’t seem to mind. “We are overjoyed to find your beautiful village at last,” I told them. “We somehow managed to get a little off track, and we feared we’d missed it completely.”
“It is a bit out of the way,” Melly agreed.
I looked at Tanris to make sure he remembered to stay in character according to the story we’d concocted on our way down to the village, but he pretended not to see me, instead choosing to watch his mangy cat make its way around the room sniffing at the walls made of (more) marble with borders of indecipherable runic symbols. Were I the cat, I’d have gone straight for one of the big, deep chairs on the other side of the room. Arranged around a fireplace in which a fire crackled happily, they sported thick, deep velvet cushions. We humans sat upon hard chairs around an admittedly beautiful teak table inlaid with mother of pearl, subject to a breeze creeping in between the panes of a real glass window. However had they got the glass to this remote location, and how much of the original shipment had broken to bits in the process? Just contemplating the cost staggered the mind.
“It is lovely, very lovely,” I murmured, gazing about and letting my sincere appreciation show. “I’m quite sure I’ve never seen such a fine collection of dragon art before.” I had seen pictures and carvings and jewelry, of course, but never so much of the same theme all in one place.
“It is an… homage,” Melly murmured, and stirred his tea. The fellow sitting next to him added some honey to the cup, then patted Melly’s hand, and he stirred some more.
“Oh?”
“We protect the dragon, and the dragon, in turn, protects us. We will never forget to whom we owe our daily lives,” he intoned with great humility.
“Ah, I see.” People across the world worshipped stranger deities. Some folk believed the mythical dragon represented courage or longevity or ferocity in battle, though none of these men looked to be particularly warrior-like. A few of them were downright chubby. “Do you perchance make and sell any of those exquisitely carved and inlaid dragon’s eggs I’ve seen from time to time in my travels? I should dearly love to purchase one.”
“No.” Just that, no more. Not even a smile.
“How unfortunate. Well.” The silence drew out, and none of the brothers offered to fill it. I took another sip of my tea and nodded agreeably. “It has been a terribly long journey,” I said, continuing the story I’d already begun at the door, in which Girl—my niece on my mother’s side—had been cursed on her wedding day by a rival for the groom. The wedding had been postponed for a year and a day to give us time to find a cure for the curse, which prevented her from speaking—a necessity when exchanging wedding vows and thus living happily ever after. “With each day that passes and each holy place we visit without success, Etana grows more and more disconsolate. There are days at a time when she cannot stop crying.” I adopted an expression of sorrow.
Girl—Etana—pressed her hand over her mouth and looked at the floor demurely.
“We have been from one end of the empire nearly all the way to the other, seeking the means, magical or holy or otherwise, that will release this lovely, sweet girl from her affliction and free her to follow her heart.”
Magister Melly peered in Girl’s direction, and after a moment he cleared his throat. “What leads you to believe we have such an article?” he asked in a surprisingly deep voice.
“Hope, Your Eminence, only hope.” I could tell he liked the sudden elevation in title. “It is all we have left.”
“The Temple of Nadimesh holds many wondrous and powerful artifacts.” He looked toward me, but missed meeting my gaze by a good six inches. “Some of them so ancient that their purpose has been forgotten. Some of them are too powerful to remain in places where they might be subject to thieves. Some of them,” he smiled beatifically, “are simply beautiful works of art.” And therefore also subject to the temptation of thieves. I should know. The table itself was probably worth its weight in silver, but as you know, I like my treasures small enough to fit comfortably into a pocket or even a pack.
“Such a remote location is a good first defense,” Tanris observed.
“We have guards, of course.”
“Of course,” Tanris nodded. “So few of them patrolled the walls, I hope there are more in reserve.”
I didn’t, and he must have been joking. I do not particularly like guards. They tend to be a nuisance.
Melly just smiled and I found myself staring at him. Something about him disconcerted me beyond his inability to see past the end of his own very large nose. Staring, however, wouldn’t answer any of our questions. “Do you happen to know if one of your treasured artifacts might be suitable for helping my niece?”
“Unfortunately, nothing comes to mind. I am terribly sorry.”
Girl chose that moment to sniffle and, gods bless her, she was crying. It was the first time she’d ever cried when it was actually convenient and useful, but it made me outrageously suspicious of her other crying jags. “Now, now, dear,” I murmured, patting her hand solicitously. Head bowed, she caught my hand in her own, clutching dramatically.
I gave Magister Melly and his companions my most beseeching look. “Perhaps we could just look…?”
One of the other brothers leaned forward a bit. “Magister Ammeluanakar,” he murmured, and I had to hold my breath to hear what he said, “what if they are thieves?”
“It is well known,” I pointed out, cutting off any reply, “that some Gifts are triggered by the mere presence of the, erm… needy.”
“That is a myth,” Brother Three declared with not a little derisiveness.
I crooked a brow. “Oh? Then you should perhaps tell that to Baron Dasuf. His son was half blinded in a hunting accident and forced to give up his soldierly habits. Brilliant young man. Went on to handle all the details of his father’s finances and business endeavors. A priest from the Temple of Lishur visited the Dasuf holdings one day. The priest sat next to the young man at supper. Much to the astonishment of all present, the lad leaped up and exclaimed that he could see.” I snapped my fingers for emphasis.
“There is also the report of Mildar Sirjin,” I went on. “A great captain in the Emperor’s own army, he was run through by a sword and lay dying in the street. One of his men ran to him. As it happened, this man was transporting some valuable artifacts that had been captured. The Amulet of Disrae was in a bag at his side. It came to life spontaneously and lit so brightly that it glowed through the leather—and Sirjin was healed.”
I’d completely fabricated the first story, but the tale of Sirjin’s miraculous recovery was something of a legend and who could know if it was indeed true? The stories had the desired effect on my audience, and they began a whispered debate that soon had them all hovering about good Magister Melly. Restrained as the group’s arm-waving was, I fully expected someone to take an injury and witnessed several near misses.
I waited for a lull in the argument and clasped my hands in entreaty. “Surely it can do no harm if we simply look upon your collection, and it could do a great deal of good.”
“What if they are thieves?” Suspicious Brother Two repeated, and he didn’t whisper this time.
Girl covered her mouth and turned her face completely away, still sniffling.
Tanris glowered. Such a helpful sort…
The Second Position of Entreaty required me to put my hands out, palm up. It did not prevent me from subtly insulting them. “With such a valuable and dangerous collection as you claim to have, you can’t afford to be too cautious. I understand completely.”
I got to my feet and held my hand out to assist Girl. Even as I did, the pious brothers of the Temple of Nadimesh were working up the
ir righteous indignation over the suggestion they had no treasures at all. “I am sorry, dearling. We had best be on our way and leave these good men to their work.”
Tanris got up, too, in a rush of vexation to rival the brothers. “You cannot mean to just walk away without even trying!”
“I have tried.” My tone was doleful and Girl’s lip quivered pathetically. “I cannot very well force them to accommodate our small desires when they have the safety of the entire empire to look after. Come now, Etana.” Ignoring the way Tanris stiffened, I tucked Girl’s hand into the crook of my arm solicitously and headed for the exit, lowering my voice to her confidentially—but not so confidentially that my words would be missed entirely. “Perhaps your father will let you contribute the reward money to a good cause. Do you remember the dear children in that little orphanage in—”
“Perhaps you would like to stay here tonight. It is a long way to anywhere and we do have guest rooms,” Brother Four offered, getting to his feet and smoothing his chubby little hands over his very well rounded belly.
“Oh,” I paused, and I swear I could hear Tanris rolling his eyes. It was a terrible habit of his that made me look bad and made my job harder to do. I resented that and gave him a look to let him know it, which he utterly ignored. “We really don’t want to impose upon you…” I lied to the dear brothers. Very smoothly. I’d had practice.
Brother Six didn’t seem to be suffering from starvation, either, and heaved his ponderous weight upward. The belt barely visible at his sides completely disappeared in the front beneath his considerable girth. “It is no imposition,” he countered as he rose. The rest followed him like gophers popping up out of their holes. Very pretty gophers in their fine woolen robes and painstakingly detailed felt hats and exquisite, expensive jewelry.
As the Crow Flies: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Page 24
