The Shewstone Page 23

  “The steward.” The slave scowled as she lifted her full pitcher. “He’s the one who set the empress off, giving her the ideas. Without him, she’d never have tried rebuilding the empire. She wouldn’t have an army. I’d be with my family, and my husband would still be alive.” She looked as if she wanted to say more, but turned and left.

  Once she had gone, Matt asked the remaining woman. “Is that true? Is the empress just a puppet?”

  “It’s more complicated than that. Steward Ceolwulf might have started things, but it’s running away with him. It’s no secret Oswald, the priest, is after his job. There’s been scheming over secret missions and more—”

  An impatient shout came from a window. “Cleace. Astynte dolspraece.”

  “Whoops. Better go. Be safe.” The second woman also left.

  Matt could make a guess at what had been shouted. It probably counted as one of the orders she ought to understand. Maybe Eawynn could give a few lessons.

  She lowered the bucket into the well. Where were they getting water? Perhaps underground cisterns stored the winter rain. In which case, it would not keep an army going for long. What were the empress’s long term plans?

  However, for them, things had gone surprisingly well. Undoubtedly, there would be tricky bits ahead, but Eawynn had access to the top of society and she had access to the bottom. For the meantime, her two biggest issues were learning enough of the crackjaw language to stay out of trouble, and resisting the urge to hug Eawynn.

  *

  Eawynn got to the Sanctuary of Liffrea a few minutes early. She spent the time trying to ignore the bloodstains around the main alter. What would be required in her role here? Her training in Fortaine had contained nothing about slitting animal’s throats.

  “Welcome.” Oswald Husa Eastandune arrived.

  “Good morning.”

  “Are your rooms to your liking?”

  “Yes, thank you. I wasn’t expecting quarters to myself. Junior priestesses shared a dormitory in Fortaine.”

  “We have no shortage of space, and you’re officially High Priestess of Anbeorht in Cyningesburg.”

  “By default.”

  “For the moment.” He smiled. “Before we go to the shrine of Anbeorht, I thought, you might like to see the Shewstone.”

  “It’s here? In the temple?”

  “Yes. I’ll show you.”

  The Temple of Liffrea was part of a large complex of temples, each dedicated to a member of the Rihtcynn pantheon. The buildings formed a maze of courtyards and walkways. Eawynn was lost by the time they reached a narrow doorway. A complement of four sentries stood outside. Steps led to an underground crypt, forty-foot square, with a low, vaulted roof supported by four pillars. Two more black cloaked soldiers stood guard in front of a round altar directly opposite the entrance. Five-foot tall candelabras lit the crypt, one on either side of the dais and one by each of the pillars. The Shewstone was balanced on a plinth in the middle of the altar.

  “We’re keeping it safe for Iparikani.”

  The name did not belong to any Rihtcynn god Eawynn recognised. But should she? “You haven’t got the Shewstone under lock and key?”

  “Thieves generally have more difficulty with soldiers than locks.”

  “How did you take it from the temple in Fortaine?”

  “I hired the services of a notorious criminal.”

  “How did he manage to steal it?”

  Oswald shrugged. “I didn’t waste time asking for details before I sent him to the gods to answer for his many crimes. The world’s a better place without curs like him.”

  “But only after he’d got you the Shewstone?”

  “Of course.”

  Eawynn focused on the altar while she tried to resolve her feelings on the matter—an impossible task. Colours, deep within the Shewstone flowed in the candlelight. Without the deliberately reduced lighting of the shrine in Fortaine, or the latticework repository, she could see it better than ever before.

  “It’s not talking to you now.” Oswald stood at her shoulder.

  “It never did when anyone else was around.”

  “Maybe the sylph has said all it needs to.”

  “The sylph? Why do you call the Shewstone that?”

  Oswald studied Eawynn thoughtfully. “You don’t actually know what the orb is, do you?”

  “I only know what I was told by my elders in Fortaine.”

  He laughed. “In which case, the little you do know is wrong. It’s not a charlatan’s toy for telling lovelorn girls the name of their future husband or other quackery. It’s a prison.”

  “A pris…” Eawynn stared at the Shewstone. “There’s a sylph in there?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “Somebody got the better of it. The who, when, and how are unimportant.”

  So what was important? “Why do you want it?”

  “Ah. Now you’re on the right track.”

  Oswald walked around the dais until he was directly opposite Eawynn. He rested his hands on the altar and leaned forward, the pose of an orator, ready to give a prepared speech.

  “The Rihtcynn Empire was the highpoint of human existence. Order, stability, culture, we gave them to the world. We taught the savages to farm and build and read. Then, one natural calamity, and the Thraelas destroyed it all. They ruined everything that was good and noble. Across the known world, they massacred our people and tore down all we’d built. But, believe me, the lesser races will pay for their crass treachery. Because with this orb, we’ll undo the ancient wrong. We’ll set the world on the path of greatness again.”

  “The sylph will do it?”

  “No. Sylphs are weak, ethereal beings. But its soul will be a suitable feast for one who can, Iparikani.”

  “Who is?”

  “A mighty demon from the netherworld. In exchange for the sylph’s soul, Iparikani will return the Sidea river to its former course. He’ll imbue our armies with unbeatable might, and we’ll reclaim all that was taken from us. Steward Ceolwulf has made contact with Iparikani, and an agreement has been reached.”

  “That’s amazing.” What else could she say?

  “Our plans are complete. Ceolwulf has concluded the best time for the ritual of summoning will be dawn on the summer solstice.”

  Eawynn counted days in her head. “About twenty days from now?”

  “Nineteen.”

  “What about the sylph?”

  “Its soul will be consumed by the demon. A small price.”

  Perhaps not from the sylph’s point of view.

  Oswald may have read the disquiet on Eawynn’s face. He continued. “Its existence has been nothing but torment since it was confined. I think it would welcome the end. And it’ll have the satisfaction of seeing its prison destroyed forever.”

  “The Shewstone will be lost?”

  “It’s part of the ritual. But come, we’ve spent enough time here. I must show you the shrine of Anbeorht.”

  They had nineteen days to save the Shewstone. How were they going to do it? Did Matt have any ideas? Eawynn had other questions, some of which could be put to Oswald while they walked.

  “How has Steward Ceolwulf managed to contact a demon?”

  “A good question. However, he has not chosen to share this information.” Oswald did not sound overly happy.

  “How did you find out about the Shewstone and the sylph to start with?”

  “That one I can answer. It was pure good fortune. After the Langcnifas joined us, Empress Aedilhild wanted advice on how to proceed with the campaign. We’d heard of the prophetic abilities of the Shewstone, and some wanted to consult it. I must confess, I was foremost in saying it was a waste of time and money. Fortunately, not everyone listened to me.” He flashed a smile. “The envoy we sent was an elderly cleric who was knowledgeable in arcane law. As soon as she saw the orb she knew it for what it was. I was sent to confirm her discovery, and if it proved true, to bring the orb back to Cyningesbu
rg.”

  The shrine of Anbeorht turned out to be an open air terrace, tacked on to the rear of a larger temple dedicated to the primary Rihtcynn lunar deity. It contained a medium sized statue of the goddess, a plain altar, and not much else. Apart from on Pinettale, Anbeorht was never a major immortal in the Rihtcynn pantheon.

  Oswald indicated the barren space. “As Steward Ceolwulf said, the worship of Anbeorht has been sadly neglected. I’m pleased you’re here to set things right. Up till now, responsibility for this shrine has been shared among the priesthood. You’ll now take sole charge of the shrine and all its ceremonies.”

  “Is there anything in particular you’re expecting?”

  “You’re the one with knowledge of what’s appropriate for Anbeorht. Whatever you deem will be most pleasing to the goddess.”

  Eawynn looked around. “Maybe a little more in the way of decoration.”

  Oswald smiled. “I’ll assign slaves and resources to you. But no need to get too settled. When we’ve re-established the empire, don’t be surprised if you find yourself high priestess in Fortaine.”

  A harsh voice broke in, startling Eawynn. “That will surely be a decision for the entire council.” Steward Ceolwulf had joined them and did not look happy with what he had overheard.

  Oswald was not put off. “You know of a better candidate?”

  “Don’t think I haven’t spotted what you’re up to, filling posts with your protégées.” Ceolwulf shot a disdainful look in Eawynn’s direction. “She obviously made a strong impression when you met her in Fortaine. Was it her piety or her prettiness that caught your attention?”

  “Neither. In truth, I barely noticed her.”

  The steward advanced until he was inches from Oswald. “You expect me to believe that! You think I’m an old fool, but once I’ve summoned Iparikani, and our beloved empress has regained her rightful place, then we’ll see who’s the fool.”

  “You’re welcome to cling to that hope if it gives you comfort.”

  After further glaring, Ceolwulf gave a snort of contempt and turned on his heel.

  Oswald sighed deeply once the steward had left. “I’m sorry for that. Ceolwulf and I do not always see eye to eye.”

  Eawynn had gathered as much and thought it wiser to stay out of the conflict.

  He continued. “He thinks he can keep all the glory for himself. He wanted to send one of his cronies to Fortaine. I didn’t let him get away with that, and I’m not going to let him run away with things now.” He smiled at Eawynn. “But you don’t need to worry. Work out what you need to show due honour to Anbeorht, and let me know if you have any problems.”

  Oswald also went, leaving Eawynn with a long list of issues to mull over. Would they be able to rescue the Shewstone? Nineteen days was not a lot of time to play with. Even if they could, did she want to? She could genuinely take her place in the new empire. As long as she managed to keep out of the battle between Oswald and Ceolwulf, she stood every chance of becoming high priestess somewhere, and never needing to sweep a floor again. She had her place of safety, which had been her only motive in tagging along.

  Had she and Matt ever truly been on the same side over anything? Why should she return the Shewstone to Insightful Sister Oracle? What was the point? Especially if Fortaine was about to be swallowed up by a new Rihtcynn empire. Was it not her birthright to be here in Cyningesburg at the dawn of a new age?

  Eawynn was surprised at her instant gut rejection. She took a deep breath. There was no need to make her mind up instantly. She had nineteen days to think it through. There were all sorts of options. She could see to it that Matt was put on a caravan back to Sideamuda. Matt was quite resourceful enough to escape from there and make her own way back to Fortaine. They need never set eyes on each other again. Surely that would be best all round. The important thing was to take her time and make the right decisions.

  Meanwhile, she had to think about the ceremonies. Eawynn turned to face the statue of the goddess. What would Anbeorht want? Traditionally, in Cyningesburg, she was the aspect of the changing moon which controlled the heavenly sign ruling over one’s birth. Hundreds of miles from the ocean, Anbeorht never had been a sea goddess. So no getting up in the middle of the night for the Laudation of the Irresistible High Tide. And no dead animals.

  Definitely no dead animals.

  *

  Matt could barely restrain her laughter. “So that’s the scam, is it? They have the priestesses at Fortaine beat every way when it comes to the Shewstone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a con trick. They’re playing us for stooges.” Eawynn looked even more confused. “You don’t believe in demons and sylphs and magic, do you?”

  “I didn’t before.”

  “So what’s changed?”

  “Oswald told me—”

  “A story. My ma used to tell me stories about the pixies, and I trusted her way more than I’d ever trust that shitbag. Doesn’t make any of it true.”

  Eawynn continued looking baffled. Matt went to the window. Night had fallen, and candlelight flickered in rooms around the courtyard. She closed the wooden shutters and flexed the muscles in her shoulders, trying to shift the aches. While Eawynn had been listening to tales about sylphs, Matt had been ferrying reclaimed building blocks up from the lower town. Her back, arms, and legs were stiff, and likely to feel even worse tomorrow.

  Matt returned to the bench, sitting close, so they could talk with no risk of being overheard, even if a spy outside stood with his ear pressed to the door. This also meant they were close enough for Matt to feel Eawynn’s breath on her cheek when she spoke. Matt kept her hands safely clasping her own knees. But if she just let her head fall forward, she could nestle her face in the hollow of Eawynn’s neck. She tried to push the temptation out of her mind. It would get her nothing but a slap, at the very least.

  “You saw through Unsightly Sister Orifice and her fortune telling tricks. I don’t understand why you’ve fallen for this.”

  “Because I don’t see how the trick works. What will happen when the demon doesn’t appear?”

  “Depends on who’s behind it and what their game is. Ceolwulf or Oswald. Oswald is the easy one to work out. He’s letting his rival make a fool of himself. Ceolwulf says he’s talked to Ipi-whatsit. I’d put my money on it being one of Oswald’s followers in fancy dress. He’s tricked Ceolwulf into believing in magical stones, and the dupe has taken the bait, hook, line, and sinker. He’s even trying to impress on everyone that it’s all his doing. They’ll have a big ceremony with everyone watching, and when it goes tits up, Oswald becomes steward and Ceolwulf ends up a head shorter than he was before.”

  “And if it’s Steward Ceolwulf behind it?”

  “Then he’s going to have to do a bit more work and put on a show. It doesn’t need to be permanent. He just has to get the timing right. A bit of smoke, something to go flash-bang, a trickle of water. Nine out of ten watching will swear they heard the demon, smelt the sulphur, and saw the mighty river flow again. Some will even say they washed their underwear in it. By the time the story spreads, it won’t matter what happened. And if thinking you’ve got a mighty demon on your side doesn’t inspire your troops to a victory or two, then nothing will. From what you heard between them, Steward Ceolwulf is hoping to use the boost from this to get rid of Oswald.”

  Eawynn frowned. “I’m not sure.”

  “Or it could be somebody completely different, and this is a trick to get everyone in the same place, when the light is poor, and they’re too excited to be alert. The perfect time to stage a backstab and coup.”

  “So if you’re right, at least one person knows the Shewstone is a fake. Why did everyone go along with my story about it talking to me?”

  “Steward Ceolwulf thinks you and Oswald have something going on and that Oswald told you to come here. That’s obvious. But he doesn’t have any proof to start throwing accusations around. If the scammer is Oswald…” Matt paused
, thinking. “He said he hadn’t realised you spoke Cynnreord. Back in Fortaine, he and his servant probably got into the bad habit of talking as if nobody around could understand them. It was two and a half months ago. By now he won’t be able to remember whether they mentioned Cyningesburg when he went for the divination.”

  “I didn’t overhear anything.”

  “But he won’t know that. Perhaps he thinks you overheard and followed him because you’ve fallen hopelessly in love with his Rihtcynn charm and good looks.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “I’m not. Has he been smiling at you? Standing close? Offering you his help and assistance?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “But nothing. Men can be very easy to flatter like that. Anyway, no matter who the scammer is, he could hardly say, Oh no. The Shewstone can’t have spoken to you because it’s just an old ball of rock.”

  Eawynn still did not look completely won over.

  “What else can it be?”

  “I don’t know. Oswald was so convincing.”

  “Yeah. He fooled my pa as well, and Edmund didn’t fool easily. But he won’t get the chance to fool many more.” Matt felt the cold anger biting in her gut. Her grip on her knees tightened, this time a reflex that had nothing to do with the woman sitting so close.

  Abruptly, Eawynn was no longer there. Matt watched her slip off the bench and start pacing the room. Neither said anything. What was there to say?

  They came from different worlds. The priestesses lived in their safe cocoon, shielded behind every protection the state could erect. If someone wronged them, they could leave it to the city watch and the judges to sort it out with their hangman’s noose, whipping post, and labour mines. The priestesses never had to dirty their hands. Eawynn could not understand the sort of man Edmund had been, nor the debt Matt owed him.

  Eawynn returned to the bench, still refusing to meet Matt’s eyes. Her face held the familiar disapproving pout, lips pressed hard together in a line. She drew in a sharp breath and released it slowly, as if trying to let go of her irritation. “Anyway. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a trick or not. The Shewstone is going to be destroyed. If we’re going to get it back, we’ve got just nineteen days to do it in.”