The Darkness Comes (The Second Book of the Small Gods Series) (19 page)

“He had it planned,” she said, scrambling to her feet. “He must’ve had everything he needed waiting outside the door.”

Bieta limped across the room, one leg tingling with pins and needles from sitting in one position too long. She reached the door and thumped on it with the heel of her hand, the sound lost in the banging of Enin’s hammer driving in another nail.

“Enin,” she cried, the word as lost as her knocking. “Enin!”

After a moment’s pause in the hammering, Bieta breathed more easily, expecting the horse doctor to respond to her calls. A heartbeat later, the hammering resumed, nailing a board across the door at a lower level. Bieta thumped on the wooden door again, shaking it with the impact.

“What about food, Enin? And water?”

She peered back over her shoulder at Stirk, who’d raised his head and stared across the dim room at her, his mouth curved into a frown. The prince lay unmoving, his breathing regular and smooth.

Bieta banged again. “Enin! Enin!”

The hammering stopped and she put her ear against the wood. She imagined the horse doctor’s footsteps carrying him away, leaving them trapped in the storeroom behind the tanner’s. The pins and needles in her leg loosened to an ache; she panted through her open mouth, the air whistling between her teeth. After a long moment, she abandoned her place listening at the door, knowing the horse doc really had left them. Her gaze fell on Stirk crouched beside the prince, murder flickering in her son’s eyes.

XVIII Ailyssa - Breaking Fast

In the bright glare of her blindness, sounds became more distinct to Ailyssa, even after the passage of only a few sunrises.

How many has it been since they cast me out?

She thought the sun had risen four times since she regained her senses, but how many while she was drugged?

Knives and forks tinkled together, scraped the smooth surface of clay plates. Around her, the Sisters of Jubha Kyna spoke in hushed tones as they ate, but Ailyssa paid no attention to their conversations. She sat waiting, stiff and straight and partially in shock, for Creidra to return with the food to break her fast. Against her will, her mind replayed her encounter with her first man from the night before, no matter how much she wanted to shut out the made-up images.

As he made her touch him in ways she’d never touched a man before—ways the Goddess never intended women and men to touch—her fingers had revealed much about the man. The thick hair covering his body but not his head, the cant of his nose, his angular jaw. Her mind filled in the details of his hair and eye color to complete a picture she didn’t want in her head. His face took on an aspect of her son—the last man with whom she’d been meant to couple before her banishment. Ailyssa shuddered.

The things the man made her do—things she never imagined a woman might do with a man—might never leave her. He’d made her touch him with her hand, her lips, her tongue. And he’d put his hands in places on her that her own hadn’t been for pleasure. In all her times participating in coupling ceremonies, she’d never touched or been touched that way. His rough tongue grated on her ear, her neck, and he’d put his… She doubted she’d ever wash his taste out of her mouth.

The tender flesh between her legs still throbbed with his pressure—always the way of it after coupling. This was worse, though, because she still felt his lips on her flesh, his grip on her hips; his harsh breath yet rushed by her ear, stirring her hair and stinking of mint.

“Here you are, Sister.”

Ailyssa flinched away from the clatter of a plate and utensils being set on the table in front of her. The scent of ham wafted to her nose, setting her stomach grumbling, and she raised her face toward the sound of Creidra’s voice. The young woman’s presence helped calm her and distract her from her thoughts; she forced a smile on her lips and hoped it didn’t appear as strained as it felt.

“Thank you, N’th Creidra. Will you be joining me?”

“For a short while. I have my first appointment soon.”

“So early?”

The Sister sat on the bench across the table from Ailyssa in a rustle of skirts and the dull rattle of plate and silverware as she set her own meal down. She cleared her throat and the edge of her knife scraped against her platter as she cut herself a bite of meat.

“It isn’t unusual to have visitors this early,” Creidra said. “This man is one of my regulars. I hope he’s starting a new day with me rather than finishing up yesterday. He’ll smell better that way.”

Creidra laughed and Ailyssa added her own fake chuckle to the sound. A heartbeat later, the young woman’s fork scraped against her teeth and they fell silent.

Visitors.

The term used by the Sisters to describe the men who came to the temple to partake in their services grated in Ailyssa’s mind. Visitors were people you delighted in meeting with, not ones who forced you into things you didn’t normally do. These weren’t visitors, they were rapists.

“Do you often couple with the same men more than once?”

“Yes. Many of my visitors come specifically to see me.”

Ailyssa gulped back acidic saliva suddenly filling her mouth. Did that mean the man from the night before would return and she’d be forced to endure his touch again?

“How many…” She hesitated, the word sticking to her tongue. She cleared her throat. “How many visitors do you have in a day?”

The sound of chewing was the only answer for a moment, then Creidra slurped from a cup. “Sometimes one, most often two. The most I’ve served in one day is four.”

Four!

Ailyssa struggled to control her reaction, hoping her expression didn’t give away her shock or offend her one friend amongst the Sisters. She turned her face down, but Creidra didn’t act as though she’d seen.

“Today there will only be Edric. He sees me the twelfth of every moon.” Cutlery scraped plate; Creidra chewed. “He pays in coin, but he brings me gifts, too.”

“Gifts? Like what?”

“Oh, this and that. Sometimes a block of cheese, other times a jar of wine or bauble he carved of wood. He brought me a ring one time.”

Ailyssa raised her head, surprised by the note of affection in the young woman’s tone. Did she have emotions for a man? The Goddess couldn’t be pleased with her if she did.

“It seems he thinks of me as a mate. Are you not hungry, N’th Ailyssa?”

Ailyssa opened her mouth, partly to respond, partly in shock at Creidra’s words. Rather than speak her mind and question how the Goddess allowed this, she groped along the top of the table until her fingers found the handle of her fork. She used it to stir around the contents of her plate and wondered how much food she spilled over the lip if the plate

“What is it?”

“Side ham and quail eggs. Here, let me cut it up for you.”

Steel scraped clay as Creidra carved the slice of ham into manageable pieces. Ailyssa waited, hating her need to be dependent on this young woman.

“How were things with your first visitor?”

“It was…” Ailyssa’s voice trailed away, unsure how to answer the question. Should she tell of her impatience for the opportunity to bathe and rinse the man’s scent from her skin? “I think he left pleased.”

The sound of knife against plate paused, and Ailyssa sensed the young woman’s gaze on her, likely with pity in her eyes. An instant later, her fingers on the back of her hand confirmed Ailyssa’s suspicion.

“It must be a bit of a shock for you, I know,” Creidra said, a tone of understanding in her voice. “But you’ll get used to it.”

Ailyssa’s chin dipped. “I’m not certain I will.”

“I am.” The young woman patted her hand. “You are not the first Sister of Olvana we’ve taken in. Everyone becomes accustomed after a time.”

Ailyssa raised her head again, directing her gaze toward Creidra, wondering if she was looking into her eyes.

“Others of my sect live here?”

Creidra returned to eating. “Yes. I think so.”

Ailyssa sucked her bottom lip, the fork in her hand and food on her plate forgotten. “Who?”

“Um.” A mouthful of breakfast muted the sound. Creidra chewed thoughtfully for a moment before continuing. “N’th Nessina Ra is from your order, I believe. Do you know her?”

Ailyssa thought about it, but the name didn’t sound familiar. The possibility two women from the temple didn’t know each other existed, but it wasn’t likely. Perhaps she’d been relocated, as had happened to Ailyssa’s own Mother, and her Daughter. She shook her head.

“Are there others?”

“Yes, but I am out of time, Sister.” Scraping fork, chewing, the rustle of skirts. Creidra stood. “Make sure you break your fast. You need your strength.”

“Wait, Creidra. Who else is there?”

“I have to go. I’ll find the Sister and send her to you.”

The young woman took her plate and cutlery and left Ailyssa alone to poke around on her plate with the fork until she skewered a chunk of ham. Its smoky flavor spilled over her tongue as she chewed. Did one of the temple’s visitors leave it as payment? She assumed so; she’d heard nothing to indicate the presence of men here taking care of animals to feed the Sisters like in Olvana. How long before the goat paid by the man who’d employed her the night before ended up her meal? Her nose wrinkled at the thought.

Garlic and rosemary seasoned the scrambled quail eggs—a stunning contrast to the plain cereal and dense bread she’d broken so many fasts with in the past. It seemed the differences between the temples of Olvana and Jubha Kyna extended far beyond their methods for honoring the Goddess with children.

Ailyssa put another piece of ham into her mouth, the savory flavor coaxing her to continue though her stomach remained uncertain if it wanted more. As she chewed, she pondered the other differences: the appointment of the bedroom, the size of the temple itself. Why did the Goddess allow it? If one sect’s methods were right and another’s wrong, wasn’t one in danger of banishment from the world they way the Small Gods had been?

“Hello?”

The voice came from in front of Ailyssa, where Creidra had been seated. Ailyssa raised her face and blinked, but the bright blur remained, as always.

“Who’s there?”

Feet shuffled on the floor as the unknown woman moved closer. Ailyssa’s grip tightened on her fork.

“Are you N’th Ailyssa Ra? From Olvana?”

The question hung in the air between them as the sounds of eating and conversations continued. Ailyssa pushed her plate away, no longer hungry.

“I am. Did N’th Creidra send you over?”

“She did. May I sit?”

Ailyssa nodded. “Of course.”

The legs of the wooden bench scraped on the floor as the woman pulled it out, then sat. She said nothing for a while.

“What is your name?” Ailyssa asked. “Are you of Olvana as well?”

“Yes.”

Silence. Ailyssa waited, expecting the woman to say more. After five breaths, she still hadn’t spoken.

“Are you still there?”

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry. Creidra told me you couldn’t see. How long have you been here?”

“This is my second sunrise here.” Ailyssa’s stomach churned, though she didn’t understand the cause of it. “Have you been here long?”

“I have seen the seasons turn more than once,” the woman said, though she sounded distracted. “I never expected to see you.”

Ailyssa’s brows drooped and she chewed her bottom lip, the unease in her gut increasing. She thought about the women from Olvana who’d been relocated, wondered who this might be. Surely, none of the Sisters of Olvana had been be sent to Jubha Kyna.

It must be a mistake.

“Do I know you?” Ailyssa asked, tentative.

“It’s been a long time.”

Ailyssa inhaled a deep breath through her nose and set her fork on the table. It clinked against the edge of her plate.

“You have me at a disadvantage.” She waved her hand near her eyes. “I do not know to whom I speak.”

“I…I’m sorry,” the woman said, her voice sounding as though tears threatened. “My name is N’th Claris Ra. I am your Daughter.”

XIX Teryk - A Visit to the Tanner

The sound of running water brought Bieta to the precipice between wakefulness and sleep. Out of habit, her tongue prodded the space between her front teeth, but the inside of her mouth felt sticky and dry. She smacked her lips, attempting to prompt saliva to life, but none came.

She opened her eyes.

In the flickering light of their last taper, she watched Stirk standing in the far corner, a stream of urine disappearing into the open trap door leading to the cellar. Bieta blinked, the tight skin covering her empty socket pulling uncomfortably, and tried to make sense of what she saw.

“Stirk. What’re you doing?”

He looked back over his shoulder without interrupting his flow. “Honey pot’s overflowing, Ma. Had to go and didn’t want to piss on the floor.”

Bieta pushed herself up to a sitting position, nostrils wrinkling at the stink in their room. With the materials of the tanner’s trade stored in the cellar below their home, the place was always rank. After what Bieta judged by the amount of tallow they’d burned to be two sunrises trapped in the room, the stench was worse. Honey pot, sweat, and frayed nerves added up to an awful reek.

“Couldn’t you stick it under the door?”

“You know it’s too big to fit.” Stirk chuckled, shook off the last few drops, and stored himself back in his breeches. Wiping his hands on his thighs, he faced his mother. “Hungry, Ma.”

“I know. Me, too.”

She stood and went to the prince, still prone on Stirk’s messy pile of hay. The lad hadn’t moved or made a sound since the healer’s visit, but his forehead and cheeks were cool to the touch, and his bruises fading. Bieta poked the flesh beside his wound, the compound Enin had spread on it dried and cracked with the passage of time. The surrounding area had nearly returned to its natural pink hue rather than the sickly, angry red.

“The healer’s work is helping,” she said without looking up.

“Hmm,” Stirk grunted.

Since he stopped glaring at the prince, he hadn’t spared the lad so much as a glance. He refused to help keep him comfortable and clean—or the semblance of clean afforded when using a dirty cloth dipped in filthy water—and didn’t even speak of him. Bieta gave up reminding him how much gold the young man’d be worth to them and worried Stirk no longer cared.