Four

by Archer Kay Leah

  She peered up at him with a grin, the wrinkles around her dark eyes deepening. "As if I'd say no? Honestly, Mayr, I thought we were beyond this. Don't make me tell your mother you aren't listening to your elders." Orae wiped the table beside them. "Told you you're welcome any time and for the price of nothing. Also said you don't ever need to worry about paying right away yet you ignore me and do it anyhow. Just come back whenever, show your face, and we'll call it even." She propped her fists on her hips. "And tell that priest friend of yours he keeps causing a stir in here. Half my girls can't keep their eyes in their head whenever he comes 'round."

  She leaned forward, glancing around the empty dining room. "And we need to keep my girls away from your girlfriend," Orae whispered, frowning as she straightened and rubbed her back. "They're not fond of her. At least they aren't now that you're back together. You sure it's a good idea?"

  What? That everyone knows my business in this place?

  Mayr cleared his throat. "It's fine, Orae. I appreciate the concern, but it's handled." He clasped her shoulder. "I'll be back before midday. Then you can tell me the latest gossip."

  Orae's face brightened. "Oh, it's good. Real good. These last few days…" With her fist to her lips, she chuckled. "I tell you, the things I see and hear. A village is never boring. And no one ever pays us tavern folk enough mind." She pushed him away. "But go on. Go. You've made me fall behind. No different than when you were as tall as me, being a scoundrel with the other boys."

  "Just because you'd miss it if I didn't." Mayr kissed her cheek. "I'll be back soon." He left the tavern with a quick look back. Orae belonged to a past he found himself missing every few days. As a boy, helping in the tavern had helped him in unforgettable ways. The meagre pay he had earned had restored some of the pride he lost the day he had failed his mother most. If anything, it had assuaged his guilt enough to make each day more bearable.

  In many ways, Orae reminded him of Korre Dahe, Aeley's late father, who had given Mayr the chance to be a soldier when Mayr had needed it most. Both Orae and Korre had been kind and understanding. They had given Mayr the benefit of the doubt when others scoffed at him for being the gangly son of a farmer. If anyone had been like a second set of parents, it was the two of them.

  Preoccupied by the sombre reminder he would eventually lose Orae just as he had Korre, the walk to the Temple of the Four felt longer than Mayr remembered. Located on the outermost edge of the village, the temple shone brightly in the sunlight, nestled in a small wood of blood red trees dotted with white blooms among the thick leaves. Crafted from pure white marble, the temple stood majestically, separated from the red earth by a dozen wide, white steps leading up to the columns supporting the weight of the temple's front entrance. Exquisite carvings of legendary beasts and heroes adorned the columns from capital to base. Between the columns were small gardens, full of glossy green ferns, feather-like herbs, and white coronni flowers with golden centres as large as his hand. The rest of the temple hid in the shade of the surrounding trees, the other entrances disguised.

  Mayr climbed the steps slowly. His mother and father were faithful believers, showing reverence to the Four every morning. The same level of worship had yet to manifest in not just Mayr, but his brother and sister, Loftin and Estara. To them, the Four Goddesses were strange mistresses who wanted one thing one day and the opposite the next, only to overthrow the decision the day after that.

  At the top of the last step, Mayr paused to study the open doors on the other end of the series of columns. Around the threshold, vines of bright red and pink flowers created an arch. Delicate strands of clear crystals hung from the thick stalks, catching the light and dispersing it across the marble in a vivid array of colour. They swayed gently, making the coloured light dance across the columns.

  Continuing forward, Mayr crossed the threshold, greeted by the scent of incense and flowers. The sacred area of worship was spacious and inviting. In the centre of the rounded space was a black stone altar. Four large candles sat in the middle, each with four lit wicks and a flower crown with ribbons of various colours encircling the base. Four large glass goblets and bowls sat on the edge of the table, each filled to the brim with offerings. In the ceiling above the altar was a large pane of circular glass. Clear except for the red pane in the middle, the window spread light on and around the altar space, giving the room a dim red tint. At various positions near the altar were villagers and priests, either kneeling or standing with their heads bowed and open palms held outwards.

  To avoid disturbing those gathered, Mayr adjusted the weight of his steps and entered the temple further. He peered up at the statues as he passed between them. Four statues guarded the entrance, two on either side. Chiseled from the same white marble as the temple, the statues of the Four gleamed, their clear glass eyes fixed on everything and nothing. To his left stood Emeraliss, Goddess of Love, and Hastal, Goddess of Protection. To his right, Laytia, Goddess of Wisdom, and Navara, Goddess of Justice. True to every representation of the Four's images found in Kattal, each statue carried two objects, one poised with deliberate meaning in each hand. Both Emeraliss and Laytia carried glass scepters, but where Emeraliss hoisted a grand bird made of silver with a majestic crown and trailing tail of metal feathers, Laytia held out six seeing stones of various hues. Likewise, Hastal and Navara each bore a glass staff, but Hastal carried a golden shield with fine engravings while Navara balanced a pair of bronze scales.

  The lifeless gazes of the statues stared after him as he entered the sacred space. Guilt washed over him, followed by sadness and regret. He said a prayer for forgiveness before wishing the feelings away. Just once, he wanted to pass by the statues and not relive the truth of things he had done. Accidents he could have avoided; blood he had shed. Mistakes he could never make right.

  Maybe some of his parents' beliefs had rubbed off on him after all.

  "May I help you on your path?" a low voice inquired, almost a whisper. A man with short, grey hair approached from the corridor on Mayr's left, shuffling his sandaled feet. Similar to the other priests and priestesses Mayr had encountered, the man was dressed in layers of dark red robes. A glimmering red veil draped over his head and trailed behind him, his aged face fully visible. On his left hand, he wore four silver rings. "Ah, Mayr of the Dahe family. How can I assist?"

  "I'm looking for Tash," Mayr answered.

  The priest frowned. "Tash?"

  Mayr took a deep breath, trying not to show annoyance. And here's where I find out he's not actually a priest, right? This is just great. I've been had—again. Did he dupe Sarene, too, or was she in on it? He stole a glance at the statues. Please, let me be wrong. If there's anything I can ask of You today, it's this. Please tell me Betta's lies haven't completely jaded my life.

  "Yeah." Mayr cleared his throat. "He's my height, hair to here, around the shoulders. Wears bracers. And a ring that's like a talon."

  The priest mumbled, repeating the words. His eyes lit with recognition. "You mean Halataldris? Yes, he's here." He turned and motioned to the woman standing beside one of the pillars lining the corridor.

  The woman moved toward them. Young and curvaceous with red hair to her lower back, she appeared more of a villager than a priestess, lacking the red robes to which Mayr was accustomed. Instead, she wore a simple, sleeveless white gown with a red sash draped over one shoulder. "Yes, Brother Armamae?"

  "Sister Esaline, I need you to fetch Brother Halataldris. With haste, preferably."

  Esaline bowed her head to Armamae before she hurried away.

  Confused, Mayr watched her disappear into the shadows of the corridor leading past the space of worship, toward the back of the temple. Halataldris? He waited silently with Armamae and hoped Esaline didn't return with a complete stranger.

  When she reappeared with Tash at her side, Mayr let out the breath he had been unconsciously holding. Tash's smile relieved him even further.

  Armamae inclined his head as Tash approached. "I shall leave y
ou to it. Come, Sister Esaline. Let them alone." Taking her arm, Armamae shuffled toward the altar.

  "Welcome." Tash tucked his hair behind his ear, revealing a bracer that almost matched the tone of his skin. The bracer was not the only difference from the night before: dark sandals replaced his boots and his red robe was laced closed across his chest. "We should go over here," he suggested, leading Mayr to the corridor.

  As they walked down the long hallway, Mayr stayed close to Tash. "You don't look the same."

  "Who? Me?"

  Mayr gestured to Armamae and Esaline. "None of you. Well, some of you. Sort of. I'm not making much sense, am I?"

  Tash hummed. "No, you do. It's the difference in levels that has you confused." He clasped his hands before him. "Those at the Metah level wear only white with a hint of red—they have not yet earned their right to wear only the sacred colour of the Four. Rese priests, such as myself, have earned our first robes. The Uldana priests, however, wear all red and cover their heads in tribute to the Goddesses."

  "Oh." Mayr stared at the floor as they passed small rooms, the space of worship no longer in his sight. From the other side of the doors, he heard muffled voices but could not decipher the words. He could barely comprehend the words in his head. What was he supposed to say?

  He glanced at Tash, one brow raised. "So… Halataldris, is it? Just how many names do you have?" Mayr paused. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that the name of a bird? Something to do with Emeraliss? Her bird—the one She carries in all the statues—right? He's all white and silver with blue eyes or something?"

  A sheepish smile took over Tash's lips. His cheeks coloured as he lowered his chin. "My full name is Halataldris, but I prefer Tash because it's shorter, easier. However, many priests don't believe in short forms. They call me by my full name, not only because it was what I was given, but especially because it is the name of Emeraliss's sacred bird, the Father of All Birds." Tash straightened and grinned, a playful expression in his eyes. "I'm impressed, though. You know your legends, then?"

  Mayr shrugged. "My parents love the old stories, particularly my mother who swears by the Four each day. I was bound to remember something of them. Though if you asked me to name anything else the statues carry, I probably couldn't."

  "Laytia carries the Eseldeer, stones of past, present, and future. Hastal bears Talean the Unbreakable. Navara carries the Onamarre, or Fate's Truth. See? Easy."

  "Says the priest." Mayr cocked his head to the side. "Maybe I'll add a new name to your list: Oh-pretentious-one."

  Tash's laugh was low and rich. "Sorry to disappoint, but it's already been bestowed." He stopped walking, his expression difficult to decipher. "I'm pleased you came."

  An awkward silence fell between them. Mayr tried not to read more into the last words than he suspected they meant but failed. The only thing he could think about was Tash's hand gliding over his skin.

  "I, uh, came to give you this back." Mayr cleared his throat and offered the pouch. "Found it under the bed. And I'm sorry, but I had to look inside. I needed to make sure I knew what it was. Find out who it belonged to."

  Tash grasped the pouch but did not take it. "And?"

  "And maybe I'm searching for something I shouldn't be, but if that's what I think it is in that container, I'm confused. You told Sarene you didn't have anything. So if that is what I think it is, isn't lying against the rules of being a priest?"

  "Sometimes a small, harmless lie is necessary to pursue the greater truth." Tash took the pouch and looped it around his wrist. "Truth is what we're meant to search for and disperse. Besides, I did not lie. I told her I misplaced them, which was true. I placed this bag under the bed while the two of you were occupied. Her interpretation of 'misplaced' was hers alone."

  "Meaning what, exactly?"

  The expressions on Tash's face morphed before he clasped Mayr's hand and pulled him into a room on their left. Inside, the room was awash with light from clear glass windows above and along the furthest wall. Plants filled the room from floor to ceiling, Mayr realized, as Tash closed the door.

  Tash leaned into Mayr, similar to the night before at the bar in the tavern. "I wasn't going to take what you weren't ready to give," he murmured, stirring a familiar sensation in Mayr's gut. "I told you I'd take care of you, and that's how. I didn't care what Sarene wanted. I wasn't going to do it. Your safety—your comfort—was paramount, not her selfishness or carnal desires." He gave Mayr a knowing glance. "You know how she is. She was also oblivious to how you felt. She couldn't see the truth. Or wouldn't. So I diverted her scheme."

  For me? You purposely ruined her plans for me? Mayr stared at Tash. What could he say to his admission?

  Hesitant, Tash touched Mayr's hand. "I need to know: how are you now? Did you find it as uncomfortable as you thought it would be?"

  Mayr's face warmed. He knew the answer, but could not say it. Not out loud. Saying it would change things he was not ready to leave behind. Not yet.

  "I have to leave," Mayr mumbled, opening the door. "I've got some things to do for Aeley. I just wanted to return your things."

  He hurried out of the temple the way he came, thankful Tash did not follow. Had he, Mayr might have stood there, stammering and trying to find something to say.

  I'm with Sarene, that's what I'd say. I can't be thinking of anyone else when I'm supposed to be focused on her. I need to pull myself together. It was one night. Strange, mildly enjoyable, but one night. And just for her. Only for her. I can't want anything else because I can't have anything else. So shut up, rest of me, and stop getting me into trouble. You can't want what you can't have, and that's final.

  *~*~*

  "Would you stop giving me indigestion? How's a man supposed to enjoy his breakfast when you keep bringing them up?" Mayr forced himself to glower at Aeley and Lira over the dining table. "And stop looking at me like I'm five years old. I happen to like breakfast, thank you very much. It's tasty. And Cook isn't trying to kill me. I really appreciate that."

  From her seat across from him, Lira tittered, holding her hand to her lips.

  Mayr wagged his piece of bread at her. "Yeah, but you just wait until Cook burns those pastries you like so much. Then we'll see who's laughing." To emphasize his point, he chomped dramatically on the bread.

  Aeley snorted and shifted in her seat at the head of the long table, with Mayr and Lira on either side of her. "Promises, promises."

  Face contorted playfully, Mayr stuck out his tongue at her. Five days had passed since his night with Sarene and Tash. And every day, he tried not to think about it, busying himself with his work. The fact Aeley still brought up the issue of Lira's family meant he needed to do more to assure her nothing would happen at the upcoming feast. Any problem or disastrous scenario he could think of would be assigned a plan of action and soldiers to enforce it. He had been up since before dawn, working on whom he would place where for the greatest effect.

  Lira sipped water from her metal goblet. "I digress. You're absolutely right." She offered him an apologetic smile. "Friends again?"

  Always.

  "I suppose, if I have to." Mayr sighed, flicking his gaze over the dark red wood panels of the walls. "Otherwise these meals of ours will get plenty rowdy. I'll say something witty; you'll call me stupid. Aeley will kick me in the shin; I'll throw eggs in her hair. It'll be bedlam. Complete chaos." He settled into the curved back of his wooden chair and skimmed his hands over the table. "Breakfast should be civilized."

  Aeley tsked at him. "You shouldn't use words you don't know."

  "And you. Should. Eat." Mayr punctuated each word with a push on her clay plate, annoyed by how little she had taken and her even fewer bites. "Don't make me come up with a creative way to get you to, because you know I will."

  "Please. It'll end in you eating it." Aeley jabbed her food with her spoon. "I'm not hungry. I thought I was, but something lied."

  When she glanced at the metal decanters on the wood cart along the fur
thest wall, Mayr stiffened. The last thing they needed was for her to chase away her irritation with alcohol. They had been there before. Never again, he had promised her.

  "Don't you dare." Mayr slapped Aeley's wrist.

  Aeley slapped his arm. "I wasn't going to, mother." She smirked. "Just thinking of some creative things of my own." The lusty gaze she cast Lira was unmistakable.

  Mayr groaned. "Just wait until I'm out of the room this time, all right? Here, I'll grab my things and—"

  "Stay put?" Aeley interrupted. "Because that's how civilized breakfasts happen."

  Pouting, Mayr lowered his head and stared at her over the rim of his goblet. "You're mean. And you smell funny. I should tell the Council."

  "That I smell funny?"

  "I'll say it's a matter of regional interest."

  "And they'll say…?"

  Mayr grinned. "That I should be replaced. Then I'll ask for one of their jobs. Ha!" He pointed at Lira. "Then I can solve the problem of your parents real quick. No problem. None." He waggled his brows. "Council should've made me a Councilman a long time back. Imagine all of the cleaning up I could've done by now. Especially when I look this good. One of their Council coats would look excellent on me."

  "Yes, but then we would miss having you here with us," Lira said. "Who else could make every meal even half as insane?"

  "You're so nice." Mayr reached over the platters between them to touch her hand. "Can you be Tract Steward, instead?"

  Lira laughed. "Not on your life."

  "But you help her do it," he argued, pointing at Aeley.

  "Right, and there's a clear difference. You could not bribe me enough to run for election, let alone make Ae lose the position." Lira held up her hands. "I'm quite happy being a scribe. That's what I wanted to do, and now I have it. Permanently, far as the High Council has decreed. I will happily attend meetings with Aeley for the rest of my life and write until my fingers shrivel up and fall off." She grasped Aeley's hand. "Tract Steward is a special kind of torture I would loathe to endure. Having seen it from this end, I admire my wife for doing it. Especially since half the time, I'd end up saying highly inappropriate things. With one joke, I could start a war."