04c Dreams of Fire and Gods: Gods (5 page)

Marik collapsed to one knee and held her head in her hands. “What just happened?” she gasped.

“I brought you somewhere more appealing to you,” Thuna replied, “and someplace where I won’t have to maintain the spell to protect us. That’s Harleh Keep to the northeast.”

“This isn’t possible!”

“Of course it is. We’ve done it.”

“Take me back!” Marik shrieked.

Thuna shook her head. “Not yet. We still have business to discuss.”

She and Donegh remained silent for a time while Marik found her bearings. At last, she raised her head and looked at the valley laid out before her. “These magic ‘eyes’—everything looks blue.”

Thuna laughed gently. “I’m afraid everything
is
blue, my dear. The Eyes—Atnu and Druma—no longer cast their light here, which is why you are cut off from the Sight. In place of the light of Atnu, the clouds cast this light during the day. Plants seem to like it. For the rest of us, I’m afraid the novelty is wearing off.”

Marik stood and contemplated what she was seeing. “How…?”

“My dear,” Thuna said patiently, “we’re never going to get to the point if you don’t accept the fact that a dead woman has returned and has access to magic you’ve never encountered before.”

Marik turned her glowing eyes upon the old woman. “All right, then. I’ll assume for now that you are Thuna. And clearly you can perform magic that I’ve never seen. So what do you want of me?”

“That’s better,” Thuna said, smiling. “What I want… well, really, I’ve come to offer you a deal.”

“You’re offering me the chance to see again—permanently?”

“In part.”

“So again, what do you want from me?”

“It’s something you’ve wanted to do yourself, but you haven’t had the means.”

Marik sighed impatiently. “Will you just tell me what it is?”

“We’re going to assassinate the emperor.”

G
ONIM
huddled under the stairs in the bell tower, naked save for a wool blanket he’d stolen from the infirmary. After the goddess had vanished, he’d been faced with a quandary. He couldn’t remain in the infirmary. It would have been impossible to explain to Father Turs how he had gone from dying to completely healed in mere moments. But sneaking past the acolytes would be difficult. His robe and loincloth were gone, and even with all the chaos, a naked man walking through the infirmary would certainly be noticed. It was lucky for him the city
ömem
were refusing to lend their aid, as they protested the imprisonment of their sisters in Harleh. He would have been unable to hide from them.

But the window of his small room was large enough for him to squeeze through, and the fall to the courtyard wasn’t too severe. He braced himself for the jolt of landing on cobblestones, but his legs and bare feet absorbed the impact easily. More easily, he suspected, than they would have been able to do before the goddess’s servant healed him. As he ran across the small empty courtyard toward the bell tower, he felt his legs pumping with newfound strength, and he was barely panting.

He needed clothing before he could do anything else. So he waited in the hidden alcove under the tower’s spiraling stairs until nightfall. It was still warm for late fall, but he had nothing to sit on but bare stone, so the wait was an uncomfortable one. At last, he heard one of the
tadu
—“boys” in religious service, or acolytes—enter the tower and climb the stairs over his head. A moment later, the bells rang out the hour of
Nemom
. Gonim waited as the youth left the tower. He remained hidden for a while longer, and then he snuck out of the tower and across the dark courtyard to the dormitory. Those
caedan
and
tadu
who hadn’t been killed in the daily attacks on the city had begun to accompany the caravans leaving for Harleh or elsewhere. Only a few still remained. Gonim had no difficulty slipping past their sleeping cots and taking a robe and loincloth for himself, along with a pair of worn sandals. These were all communal property of the temple, so it wasn’t theft for him to do so.

After he’d dressed and left the dormitory, he headed toward the west gate. He didn’t know exactly what the goddess wanted of him, but it was clear she wanted him to go to Harleh. Unfortunately, at this time of the evening, Gonim found the city gates locked for the night, and guards were posted to prevent anyone from entering or leaving until morning. This wasn’t unusual. Even before the attacks, the city gates had always been locked at night. Gonim would simply have to wait until morning.

Most refugees from the city were heading east to Sidaz or Ködekh, since Harleh was clearly being bombarded by fireballs as well. But word had been sent from the
vek
that the valley was a safe haven, despite all evidence to the contrary. The cloud cover was preventing the fire from reaching the ground. The
vek
had even expressed a conviction that Harleh would prove
safer
than Sidaz or Ködekh in the long run. Nobody really had any idea what that meant, of course, but a few brave souls were willing to put their faith in the
vek
and follow him into the valley.

As a result, there were a few wagons at the west gate. The guards had allowed them to camp near the inner wall, so they could leave first thing in the morning. Gonim hadn’t intended to travel with anyone, but the campfires looked inviting. And really, there was no reason to isolate himself. He would keep his mission for the goddess secret, of course, but there was no need to be clandestine about his desire to travel to Harleh.

He didn’t want to intrude upon anyone, but he came across an elderly couple struggling with an overburdened cart, just as the old man lost control of a wooden crate and it slipped out of his hands. Gonim leapt forward and managed to grab the box before it fell to the ground and broke open. Then he lifted it back into place and held it there, while the grateful man secured it with a rope.

“Well!” the man’s wife exclaimed happily. “You’re certainly a strong one!”

Yes
, thought Gonim,
I certainly am
. The crate had been surprisingly heavy, yet he’d lifted it with ease. He’d always been tall and muscular, but his strength truly seemed much greater now.

“Thank you, Father,” the old man said. “That would have been quite a mess to clean up, if you hadn’t come along. It’s full of ceramic baking molds. If it had hit the ground…. Oh!” He threw up his hands with a laugh. “I don’t even want to think about it!”

The man sounded well educated for a merchant.

“I’m merely a
tadu
,” Gonim corrected politely. “I haven’t yet been uplifted.” A noble would never have made the mistake, but the lower classes often had trouble distinguishing his attire from that of a
caedan
.

The man seemed nonplussed. “
Tadu
, then.”

“Are you a baker?”

“Not just a
baker
, my boy! I make the finest pastries this side of Lake Zovya! I’m hoping to set up a new shop in Harleh—somewhere where fire doesn’t rain down upon decent folk trying to make an honest living.”

“We’re so grateful,” his wife said quickly, as though used to heading off her husband’s grumblings. “Would you care to join us for some stew? It should be hot by now.”

Gonim joined the two of them for their simple evening meal by the fire.

“No pastries tonight, I’m afraid,” the old man said. “Our whole lives are packed onto that wagon.”

“Poor Kotzod,” his wife murmured. It took Gonim a moment to realize she was referring to the weary-looking old gelding tethered to a hitching post at the edge of the road.

Gonim laughed. “You named your horse ‘smelly’?”

“Well, he
is
!” she replied, giggling about it like a young girl.

“Poor Kotzod, indeed!”

“I take it you’re on your way to Harleh, along with the rest of us,” the old man said.

“Yes, grandfather.”

“Please!” the man said with a snort. “You make me feel ancient. Call me Seirit. My wife is Unid.”

“I’m called Gonim.”

“We’d be glad of your company on the road, Gonim,” Seirit said.

“Nothing would please me more,” Gonim replied. Then he added, “But are you certain you want to travel there yourselves? I have no choice—I have business with the temple there. But I’m not certain I would go otherwise.”

The old man shrugged. “The
vek
is there, and he’s still alive. And Unid has a sister in Harleh. We’re willing to take the risk. It’s twice as far to Sidaz, and neither of us is young.”

The couple retired not long after that, and they gave Gonim a warm blanket to wrap himself up in. But the acolyte soon discovered he couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t merely that he was feeling restless. He lay there all night long, eyes closed at times, or open and gazing at the fire or the stars overhead, but sleep eluded him. He didn’t feel tired at all. When dawn came, heralded by the bells in the tower ringing out
Penent
, he sat up and tended the fire until his benefactors awoke.

Then he helped Seirit yoke the horse to the wagon while Unid prepared a quick breakfast of porridge. The west gate opened and caravans filed through, one at a time. Gonim helped Unid wash the bowls and hang the cast-iron porridge pot, still hot, from a hook on the back of the wagon. Then Seirit led Kotzod by the reins, and Gonim and Unid walked alongside the wagon as they followed the dirt road out of the city and off into the rolling hills.

S
AEL
watched Jekh draw the water for his bath, but the young
dekan
had little enthusiasm for bathing or even climbing out of bed. Only when Jekh fetched a robe from the wardrobe and came to stand beside the bed did Sael at last give in. He sighed and sat up, throwing the bedcovers off his naked body, and stood. The room was chilly, but Jekh quickly bundled him into the robe.

“The water is just the right temperature, Your Lordship,” the valet pointed out helpfully, though Sael didn’t particularly care.

Jekh led him to the tub, removed his robe, and helped him settle down into the water. The valet had cared for Sael while he recovered from the fall in the chasm, taking on duties many valets would consider improper—helping Sael eat and bathe and, at Sael’s worst, use the chamber pot.
With the
ömem
now refusing their services, some of the servants had volunteered as nurses in the keep. The
vek
appointed one of the maids to attend to Sael
, at first, but Jekh had shooed the woman out, insisting he was perfectly able to attend to His Lordship’s needs. It was highly irregular and had distressed Sael’s father and Diven, the head of household staff, but Sael, in one of his few lucid moments, had said he didn’t mind, so it had been allowed.

Physically, there was little need for any of that now. Sael had regained his health, or nearly. He was somewhat weak, but certainly able to care for himself. However, he had little desire to do so. He felt as if he had died when Koreh fell into the chasm, leaving his body an empty shell. He was certainly capable of using the chamber pot by himself, but otherwise he had little desire to leave his bed. He doubted he would bother to bathe at all, if Jekh wasn’t still doing it for him.

As Sael leaned back in the tub, his valet rolled up the sleeves of his tunic and crouched down beside him so he could run the washcloth over Sael’s body.

“It’s a lovely day out this morning, if I may say so,” Jekh said conversationally, striking up the friendly banter he normally used at these times.

Sael merely grunted. The day was most likely the same as any other day had been in Harleh over the past several weeks—blue and overcast. But Jekh continued to relay such news as there was and mild tidbits of gossip. Nothing unpleasant or distressing, of course. Just anything he thought the
dekan
might find entertaining. Sael seldom acknowledged any of it.

After a while, Jekh fell into silence, and Sael welcomed it, relaxing into the warmth of the water and the soothing caresses of the washcloth. But he gradually became aware of something he’d never noted before—Jekh was breathing heavily. Not wheezing, as if he were ill, but breathing as if he were… aroused.

Sael had grown so used to thinking of the servant as a nurse that he’d forgotten he was also a handsome young man—one whom Koreh had been very jealous of. Suddenly, the bath no longer felt relaxing. With Jekh panting in his ear, and the washcloth sliding caressingly along Sael’s legs and inner thighs….

Sael reached out and grabbed Jekh’s wrist when the washcloth slid into his crotch. Certainly Jekh had washed… everything… before today, but now something was off. “Jekh,” he said quietly.

“Yes, Your Lordship?” The young man’s voice was coarse with arousal.

Sael suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. “This isn’t…. Let me up, please.”

“Sir?”

“Hand me my towel,” Sael ordered the valet, as he thrust the young man’s hand away from him and stood up in the tub.