Part 21 (1/2)
”After almost four weeks o'this, you got to wonder if the rumors're true.”
”Bah! Just lies born o'jealousy.”
Cirang quit listening as her mind spun. As a child, she'd followed her parents to the temple every month to pay homage to the G.o.d Asti-nayas, but she'd never truly believed in an all-powerful supernatural force that ruled people's lives. Tyr had subscribed to the Nilmarion belief that humans were spiritually governed by twelve G.o.ds, not just one. Though the two faiths were different, the people of Thendylath and Nilmaria shared a common goal: a good life and a better afterlife. A more prosperous life. More power, more money, more s.e.x, more wisdom, greater health. Communing with the Savior Asti-nayas by drinking the blessed water within the temple was said to grant these things and more to wors.h.i.+pers He deemed worthy.
In her waterskins, Cirang had the power to enlighten the people of Ambryce and make them see that Asti-nayas was but a fairy tale. Once she gave them this, they would know the twelve true G.o.ds and wors.h.i.+p them properly. For that, they would owe her. They would do things for her, just as they'd done for Tyr.
Inspired by her new purpose, she turned the horse back the way she'd come and circled around the central merchant district to avoid the traffic while she formed a plan in her mind: to hide in the temple until she was sure it was safe to leave the city. Yes, it was risky, but the payoff was well worth it. The chances of Kins.h.i.+eld looking for her there were slim. She pulled off the mail s.h.i.+rt, stuffed it into her knapsack and then rode to the temple to scout the area.
The Spirit of the Savior Holy Temple of Asti-nayas was one of the most beautiful buildings in Ambryce with its tall, arched roof and four bells in the belfry that rang the hour from dawn until midnight. Its reddish bricks stood out against the dull beige and gray of the surrounding shops and houses. The cas.e.m.e.nt windows were made from different colored gla.s.s, arranged in patterns that resembled symbols of the faith. Before she could get started, she needed a place to keep the horse for a few days.
Just down the street, a sign reading The Good Knight Inn hung by one corner from the eve of a small, dilapidated building, and swung in the breeze with a rhythmic squeak of its rusty chain. She tied her horse to the hitching post, jogged up the porch steps and opened the door. A musty smell a.s.saulted her nose, and the floor creaked under her as she approached the counter.
A man pushed past an ugly brown curtain. He was average height with graying hair, and his right arm ended just below the elbow, probably from crossing the wrong person. ”Help you, Lady Sister?” he asked.
”I need a room for a couple of days,” she said, ignoring the erroneous t.i.tle. She should have taken Calinor's warrant tag from his body so when she wasn't wearing the mail, she would have another badge to win people's trust. That was a problem she could address later.
”You got a horse?”
Cirang nodded.
”Then that'll be five pielars per night.”
She paid the man for three nights and held her hand out for the key.
”We got no keys here. Take whichever room you like. They're all empty. Bar the door from the inside. If you got somethin' valuable you want to keep safe, you can leave it with me.”
He followed her outside and whistled for the stable hand. A boy of about twelve sprinted over, gave the horse's neck a pat and untied the reins. ”What's his name?” he asked.
She didn't know. It had a broad, golden face with a white streak that went halfway down, and a neatly trimmed forelock of darker gold. The first name that came to mind was Calinor. Naming the horse after the 'ranter who'd hunted Tyr for so long was a symbol of her domination over the slain battler. She settled on a shortened version of it. ”This is Calin,” she told him as she untied the saddle bag.
”Come on, Calin,” he said softly. ”Let's get you some hay.”
Cirang chose the room farthest from the inn's office. A rope dangled through a hole in the door up near the top, and when she pulled it, the bar on the inside lifted, and the door swung open.
It was about ten feet square with a wide bed, small table with a pair of candles atop it, and two stools. With the door barred shut, the only light came in through the cracks between the door and its frame and the gap around the rope pull. She set her knapsack on the stool and saddlebag on the table, unstrapped her weapons, and lay down. The bed was straw-filled and lumpy, but better by far than any bed in a gaol cell.
Chapter 38.
Uncaring about the rain tapping his head, Gavin stormed towards the stable, with Daia and Brawna following behind. Gavin grabbed Golam's reins, mounted and started off, with the others scrambling to catch up.
”If we hurry to the market,” Daia said, catching up to him on her horse, ”perhaps you can find Cirang before Queen Feanna even arrives.”
He nodded, having already formed the same plan. It gave him comfort to know Daia understood him well enough to antic.i.p.ate his thoughts, his plans, even his words. Should have married her instead, he thought angrily.
”Rikard,” he yelled as he approached the gate. ”That woman who left the message. She's a traitor, murderer and thief and needs to be brought to justice. I need whatever armsmen you can spare to search the city and apprehend her.”
Rikard's jaw dropped open. ”But she was wearing your colors, my liege.”
”She murdered a true First Royal Guard and stole that armor. Arm your men with a description of her and send as many as you can.”
”Yes, sire. Most of us are preparing for the queen's outing, but I'll awaken those who guard at night. Oh, and sire? You asked whether-”
Calinor rode up on the white mare and reined in.
”Ho there,” Rikard said, holding his sword to block Calinor's approach. ”Move back.”
”He's with me,” Gavin said. ”Treat him as you would a First Royal Guard.”
”Oh. Yes, sire. You asked whether that woman has come to see the queen - and she hasn't - but someone else has. I thought you should know, in case- Gavin c.o.c.ked his head. ”Who?”
”Two women. Twins. They didn't say their names, and so we refused to request an audience with her on their behalf.”
Alarm made him stiffen. They must have been the twins Adro had seen wandering in the palace. ”What did they look like?” Gavin didn't know what business those women would have with the queen, but their business with her was also their business with him.
”They were more erstwhile ladies with gray in their black hair. Blue eyes, angular faces. Nicely dressed but not wealthy. They arrived on foot, as near as I could tell, but I didn't actually see them approach.”
”How was their demeanor? Angry? Friendly?”
Rikard looked into the distance for a moment. ”I'd say more cool than friendly, but not angry. No more so than some of the merchants or department directors who come to meet with the lordover.”
”I want to know what business they have with my wife,” Gavin said. ”If they return, detain them, but be cautious. At least one of them might have some skill with magic.”
”Yes, sire.”
Outside the guarded gate, they were met by the throng of eager citizens, now crowded around. Though he understood their excitement at seeing the first king in more than two hundred years, Gavin's mood was already soured. He had neither the time nor the patience to deal with them but didn't want to leave them with a poor impression of him.
”Make way,” Daia shouted, taking the lead. She parted the crowd for him.
He held his left hand out and downward as he followed, letting the people touch him as he pa.s.sed. A few tried to grab his hand, perhaps to shake it, but Golam moved steadily forward, ripping his hand from those tenuous grasps. At last, the crowd thinned, and the horses broke into a trot on Daia's lead.
”Calinor says we should take Brewer Street to Worsted,” Brawna said from behind him. ”The lordover's guard told him they cleared that route so Queen Feanna's carriage can get to the orphanage with the fewest delays.”
Gavin turned in his saddle and grinned. ”Good idea.” The crowd had fallen behind, and most had given up the chase, though the people on the street ahead were beginning to notice his presence. They turned onto Brewer and met three soldiers blocking the road.
”The street's closed,” one of them said.
The other two gaped at him. ”K-King Gavin?” one said, a young man about Brawna's age with a wide-eyed, slack-jawed gape.
”The same,” Gavin said. ”Let us pa.s.s.”