The High Priest and the Idol Page 9

  After a long silence, Tevi was about to knock again when a voice on the other side asked, uncertainly, “What’s the word?”

  “I assume you mean the password. I’m sorry. I don’t know it. I’ve come to talk to you about getting into the temple.”

  An even longer silence greeted this. At last, the voice asked, “Who are you?”

  “Potentially, a friend. Would you be willing to talk about it?”

  The door opened. Inside was dark, but not so much that Tevi could not see the drawn bow pointed in her direction. She raised her hands in surrender. When nothing else happened for a while, she asked, “Shall I come in? I feel a bit conspicuous standing out here like this.”

  The door opened wider, and a hand beckoned her forward. As soon as she was through, more hands grabbed her, shoved her face first against the wall, and patted her down. The long knife was removed from her belt and the short one from her boot, but the attempt at a search was laughable. Tevi could have got a small arsenal past it, had she wished.

  Tevi was then released, allowing her to face the room. Her eyes had adjusted to the weak light, enough to see a dozen people staring at her, including the man she had tailed from the temple. She could well believe they were priests. Their age and physical condition made it very clear they were not warriors. Even though the arrow was still pointing vaguely in her direction, and two others held drawn blades, if it came to a fight, the outcome was not a forgone conclusion. Quite apart from her martial training, Tevi had one other advantage.

  The women of the Western Isles brewed a potion they gave to girls that affected the child’s development. The result was that Tevi, like all her female kin, had grown up vastly stronger than normal. The strength potion was the only one known to the Coven, and in fact, until Tevi had arrived on the mainland, most sorcerers had declared such a thing to be impossible. Since leaving Lyremouth, Tevi had taken care not to display her potion-enhanced strength, mainly so as not to attract attention. The element of surprise was an added bonus in situation like this.

  “Who are you?” The question was repeated in a voice quavering with both age and anxiety.

  “My name’s Tevi. I’m a mercenary, from the Protectorate.” She held up the backs of her hands to show the tattoos.

  “What are you doing here?” The speaker was an elderly man, with a nervous expression and indecisive posture. Despite his lack of forcefulness, the others in the cellar were clearly deferring to him. If things turned nasty, Tevi was comforted that the leader would choose to flee rather than fight.

  “Here as in Kradja, or here in your cellar?”

  “What do you want with us?”

  “I want to talk to someone inside the temple, and I think you might be able to help me.”

  “You’re working for that fraudster—Ciamon.” The new speaker was far more aggressive than his leader, as well as being a couple of decades younger. He was one of the people holding a knife.

  “No.”

  “Then how come you found us? How did you know about our meeting?” He took a step forward, raising his knife.

  “Please, Alkoan. Let her speak first.”

  At the elderly man’s appeal, the aggressive one, presumably called Alkoan, scowled but moved back. “Speak quickly then.”

  “I saw him”—Tevi pointed—“in the temple, acting suspiciously. So I followed. He went into a side chamber and vanished. I waited until he came out and tailed him here.”

  “Why?”

  “I guessed he went into a secret passage. As I said before, I want to talk to someone. A secret passage is exactly what I need.”

  “Who do you want to talk to?”

  Tevi hesitated for a second, but no made-up story was likely to be received any more favourably than the truth. “A senior sorcerer at Lyremouth sent me to find her former pupil, who’s supposedly gone over to Ciamon’s side. But the person who sent me doesn’t believe it. She thinks it’s all part of a plan. I’m to give what help I can.”

  “The Coven sent you, on your own, rather than a troop of sorcerers?”

  “If you know anything about what Ciamon’s doing, you’ll know he’s made a device that stops anyone working magic near it. Sorcerers would be slightly less use than ordinary folk, since they’d have no experience of how to do anything without spells. And a large group arriving here would be too easy for the sentinels to spot. Hence just me. My skills are unaffected by the device. I’m still as deadly as before.”

  The old man nodded. “A Coven sorcerer did arrive two months ago, Ciamon’s lover.”

  “She’s not—” Tevi stopped.

  When Jemeryl had spoken of her past relationship with Ciamon, Tevi had been surprised by the twinge of jealousy, but that was all it had been, a brief twinge. Even her reaction when she saw him was due more to his current activities than anything that had gone before. Tevi had no doubts about the strength of Jemeryl’s commitment to her. But supposing Ciamon had taken over Jemeryl’s mind. What might he have forced her to do? Tevi felt her hands tighten into fists. In that case, there would be blood spilt.

  However, this was conjecture, and she did not want to confuse these potential allies. “Jemeryl won’t have really gone over to his side.”

  “How can you know? Are you familiar with this sorcerer?” Alkoan’s scepticism was clear.

  “Yes. She’s close kin of mine.” It was true in spirit, and should not upset the priests’ sense of propriety, should they have strong feelings about what was appropriate between sorcerers and the ungifted. “That’s why I was picked for this, and why I said yes.”

  “A mercenary?” Alkoan looked thoughtful, and a little less hostile. “Are you an assassin?”

  “I’m—”

  Before Tevi could finish her answer, another priest jumped in. “Can you kill Ciamon for us?”

  The cellar erupted. “And that traitor, Sefriall.”

  “We must have patience.”

  “It’s not your followers being hunted by mobs.”

  “Let Yalaish guide us.”

  “It’s time to follow the path of Toqwani.”

  “Silence!” For the first time, the old man had raised his voice. He was still lacking vigour, but the other priests subsided at his command. He turned to Tevi. “My name is Darjain. I’m a priest of Yalaish, and leader of those assembled here, as long as they’ll follow me.” The last part was delivered with a sideways glance at Alkoan. “We were banished from the temple when Ciamon arrived, with his sham religion.”

  “Which is why we have to kill him.” Alkoan addressed Tevi. “Will you help us?”

  “We haven’t yet decided that.” Darjain’s words were no surprise. Tevi had seen enough of him already to know that he was the well-meaning sort who never decided anything.

  She replied to Alkoan. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Why not?”

  “Ciamon’s a sorcerer, and his magic is still working. Have you felt the glamour his idol is kicking out?”

  Another priest interjected. “So it is a spell.”

  “Of course.” Alkoan looked exasperated. “What else could it be?” He turned back to Tevi. “What do you think we should do?”

  “What I said. Help me talk to Jemeryl. She’s a Coven sorcerer. Even without her magic, she’ll have more idea about how to deal with Ciamon than anyone here has. We need her advice.”

  “How do we know you’re not a follower of Ciamon? How do we know you won’t pass on what you’ve found out about us?”

  “The only things I’ve found out is you meet in this cellar and you use secret passages in the temple. I knew that much before I knocked on the door. If I was working for Ciamon, I could have told him already and he’d have sent a dozen sentinels here.”

  Several priests glanced at the door, while a couple looked nauseous at the idea.

  “Yalaish will protect us.” Darjain spoke with more confidence than before. “This is a trial we must endure.”

  Another priest nodded. “The cycle
will continue. All things will pass.”

  “But the great cycle has its phases. I say this is time for Toqwani the destroyer. We must fight.” Alkoan’s position was predictable.

  “Before we get hunted down like rats.”

  “All this has been foretold.” A new priest joined in. She had been sitting on the floor to the side, with her arms wrapped around her knees, playing no part in the debate until now. “The holy fool will die amid fire and destruction. The despised idol will fall. The blasphemer will be consumed by the dessert.”

  “How about getting your god to give us some prophecies we can make use of?” Alkoan snapped.

  “Please. Stop bickering. We have enough trouble, without fighting each other.” Darjain held up his hands. When silence had returned, he looked at Tevi. “We must proceed carefully. Your kinswoman, this Jemeryl, might be useful. Tomorrow afternoon, Parrash is due to return to the temple.” He indicated the man who Tevi had followed. “This cellar belongs to his sister. She’s the baker. Meet him here at noon and he will guide you.”

  Tevi was a little surprised. Darjain could make decisions, after all—although a decision to get more information before doing anything was maybe one he could handle.

  *

  The afternoon sun was at its hottest when Tevi returned to Four Winds House. She found Siashe sitting in the shade outside the room she shared with him. Raf was also there and carved wooden pieces were laid out on a grid scored in the dust before them, although the game was clearly over. They indicated for Tevi to join them.

  “I was telling Raf you were curious about the sex cults here,” Siashe said, smiling as he passed her a bottle.

  “I’m always interested in local customs.” Tevi sipped cautiously. She had already discovered that items considered delicacies in Kradja were not always to her liking. This time, the spiced wine turned out to be good, if a little pungent.

  “Your interest goes no further than talk?” Raf was teasing.

  “Certainly. Especially since the healers are out of action.”

  “You show great wisdom. But health isn’t the only reason to be cautious.” Raf laughed and looked at Siashe. “You remember Daole?”

  “Yes. Wasn’t she living with a partner by the south gate?”

  “She was. And note the word was.” Raf launched into a tale. The story got progressively more absurd until Tevi was sure it had to be partly made up, but it was funny.

  “…and Daole’s chickens were never seen again.” Raf reached the outrageous conclusion, and levered herself to her feet. “But I’ve got things to do.” She gestured at Siashe. “If I don’t see you tomorrow morning, safe journey and speedy return, my friend.”

  “I’ll keep you in my thoughts. Stay safe.”

  “I’ll do my best.” Raf toddled away

  “You’re leaving tomorrow?” Tevi asked, still wiping tears from her eyes.

  “Yes. A new caravan. Traders to Lijoni. Should be saner than pilgrims. You’ll have the room to yourself for a while.” Siashe grinned. “But what about you? Have you found work yet?”

  “Maybe. Have you heard of a priest called Darjain?”

  Siashe looked surprised. “Of course. But you’re not going to tell me he’s hired your services.”

  “Why? Is there something wrong with him?”

  “Hardly. He’s the kindest man in Kradja. Not only wouldn’t he hurt a fly, he’d give it food and water and send it on its way with prayers for its well-being. He’s not the sort of man to employ a hired sword.”

  “He’s not exactly offered to pay for my work, but do you know he has been kicked out of the temple by the new High Priest?”

  Siashe sucked his breath through his teeth. “The man is mad—the High Priest, not Darjain, he’s just a bit soft in the head. Darjain is an old man. He’s done much good in his life, and very little harm. He should be left to worship his god in peace. But he’d never resort to violence, or pay others to do it on his behalf.”

  “He’s leader of the cast-out priests. Some of them aren’t quite as forgiving.” Tevi had debated whether to discuss the situation with Siashe, but his knowledge of the town and its inhabitants might prove useful.

  Siashe turned his head and stared over the rooftops, although there was nothing obvious to see in the cloudless blue sky. “Did I ever tell you about the strange thing I saw recently, when I was guiding a party across the desert from Serac?”

  Tevi frowned at the change of topic. “No.”

  “In this party was a mercenary, a member of the Protectorate guild. She seemed ordinary enough. Then one night when we made camp, I couldn’t sleep, so I sat a while, watching the stars. This mercenary appeared, but she didn’t see me sitting alone in the dark. The night was chill. I think she wanted a blanket from her pack. But do you know what had happened?”

  “What?”

  “When a driver had unhitched the mules, the wagon must have rolled onto the mercenary’s pack. It was wedged under the wheel. So the mercenary caught hold of the wheel, lifted it, and pulled her pack free. Can you see why I was so surprised?”

  “Yes. I think so.” Tevi now understood where the story was headed.

  “Four strong men would struggle to lift the wagon, yet this one woman had done it on her own. I saw it myself. After she’d gone, I sat and thought, because sleep was even further from me than before. The mercenary’s strength had to be magical. She was from the Protectorate, and she was headed to Kradja, where a new High Priest had sworn to overthrow the Coven. The sums weren’t hard, and the conclusion I reached was that this mercenary’s business in Kradja was something I had no wish to get mixed up in. Better if I could deny all knowledge. So I decided to say nothing.”

  “You’re telling me now.”

  Siashe turned back to face her. “Because I liked this mercenary. I think she was a good person. And now I wish I’d given her some advice. I think she’s walking a dangerous path. If ever she needs a place to hide, to the north of here is a mountain which I’d pointed out to her. Below it is another oasis.”

  Tevi nodded.

  “This oasis is sacred to my people. It has no temple or town, but there are caves in the cliffs overlooking it. Those caves are a refuge. In time of trouble, someone could go there and be safe, if they said they were a friend of Siashe, son of Jeqwai.”

  “Thank you.”

  “My people worship Yalaish. They will not follow this High Priest.” Siashe smiled. “Stay safe, my friend.”

  *

  Parrash was the only one waiting in the cellar when Tevi arrived the next day. He peered at her, clearly ill at ease, but then squared his shoulders. “What was I doing yesterday that made you suspicious?”

  “The way you moved. You were too purposeful for the speed you were going.”

  “Just that?”

  “Enough to get my attention.”

  “I’m the only one with the nerve to do it…to go into the temple,” Parrash said defensively. “Well, Alkoan would, but his face is too well known. I’m just a neophyte.”

  Tevi considered saying something flattering about his courage, but it might sound patronising. Instead she smiled in a friendly fashion. “Shall we go?”

  Parrash nodded and led the way out. Tevi fell into step beside him. As she had already noted, Parrash was carrying excess weight, and from the way he moved it was fat, not muscle, as might be expected in a priest. She judged him to be in his late twenties, young enough still to be agile, and his weight was not nearly excessive enough to count as obese, but Tevi predicted that by middle age he would be round and waddling.

  Midday was siesta time and the streets around the bakery were empty. Tevi had some questions to ask while there was no risk of being overheard.

  “You’d be in trouble if you were caught in the temple. But I guess it’s easy for them to sit back and let you take the risks.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “So why are you doing it? What’s the point?”

  “Darjain w
ants more information before we do anything. He’ll always want more information. He’s…” Parrash kicked at a pebble. His expression was troubled. “I was training to be an initiate of Yalaish when Ciamon arrived. Darjain was our senior priest. I used to think he was wonderful but he…” Parrash ran out of words.

  “Darjain doesn’t seem well suited to be a leader in a time of crisis.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “So why is he? Why does everyone follow him?”

  “He was speaker for the convocation.”

  “Which is?”

  “The assembly that ran the temple. It used to meet in the basilica. All the religions had representatives. The speaker’s job was to call the meeting to order and see it stuck to the agenda, and tell people to be polite. Darjain got to be speaker because he was the only priest who nobody hated.”

  “He wasn’t the High Priest?”

  “We never used to have one before Ciamon. All the faiths were independent. Now we need to work together and Darjain’s the only one with any sort of authority over everyone.” Parrash grimaced. “Except we’re not working. We’ve been meeting in my sister’s cellar for months, and we’ve done nothing but talk. I think Alkoan’s right.”

  Tevi had wondered if Parrash would be too suspicious of her motives to talk. Luckily, it seemed as if he had a lot he wanted to get off his chest. “Alkoan wants to kill Ciamon.”

  “Yes. He’s a Cyclian. He used to favour Rashem, but since we’ve been expelled, he’s tending more to Toqwani.”

  “Does he have much support from the other priests?”

  “He does from Botha. You can’t blame her. She’s a Nolian. The new religion has painted her god as the source of all evil. Her followers get attacked all the time. Some have been killed, though the sentinels deny it.”

  “I saw one nearly lynched in the temple.”

  “It’s getting worse. I’m surprised Sefriall has gone along with it. Botha and her used to be close.”