Waterdance (22 page)

“Peri, we cannot,” he said. “You are still too weak.”

“I can ride,” she said stubbornly.

“Likely you can.” Atheris shrugged. “But, Peri, if I cast the spell to make us unseen so that we can take the horses and leave, I will exhaust myself to the point where I will require your assistance. One of us at least must have the strength to get us both across very difficult terrain in the darkness, and you are far too weak to sustain the spell for me. We will have to wait until tomorrow night.”

“What if there’s twice as many pilgrims all around us tomorrow night?” Peri demanded.

“That matters nothing to a spell of concealment,” Atheris said quietly. “You can walk unnoticed past one man or twenty, as long as you do not stumble over him in your weakness.”

Peri bit her lip. Every instinct told her it was a chance worth taking to get away a day sooner, but she couldn’t argue with Atheris’s logic. As little as she liked to admit it, she stood very little chance of getting away without his help; nor could she contest his greater knowledge of magic or of their pursuers. And Sarkond or not, dead pilgrims notwithstanding, how could she mistrust him after he’d risked everything to save her?

And Atheris was right; she was weak despite the restorative herbs, weaker than she would have expected even after so severe an illness. Judging from his explanation of Sarkondish magic, she wondered whether the Bone Hunter’s “poison”—or perhaps even his sword—had some sort of life-draining property she hadn’t suspected. But she was recovering, albeit slower than she should be, and surely tomorrow she’d have the strength to make her escape. She’d simply have to. It would be her last chance to avoid Rocarran.

The tent was too small to permit a comfortable distance between the two pallets, but to Peri’s relief Atheris seemed as determined as she to avoid any intimacy; after they ate, they dived into their respective bedrolls with as little conversation as possible.

Peri, however, found sleep elusive; she was too full of unanswered questions and uncomfortable thoughts. Despite her physical lassitude she felt unaccountably restless and uneasy. After sitting up and fretting for some moments in the darkness, she realized she was almost holding her breath listening to Atheris sleep, the rhythm of his breathing, the faintest rustle of movement every time he shifted. A warm and disturbing hunger had settled into her body at some point. Stifling a groan, she leaned her head into her hands.

How can I want him? How? For all I know he’s a murderer. And why should I expect any different, anyway? He’s a Sarkond! An enemy! I can’t trust him, I can’t want him, I can’t—can’t—This time Peri did groan softly to herself, clenching her fingers in her braids.

There are traitors and criminals in Bregond and Agrond, she thought desperately. I never would have believed it before, but I’ve seen for myself that there are ordinary, kindly folk in Sarkond, like Orren and Lina, or Minyat and Irra. Why can’t I just tell myself that Atheris is a good, decent fellow fleeing from situations and practices that don’t sit lightly on his soul, and leave it at that? And if I can’t do that, why can’t I tell myself he’s a Sarkond, an enemy, and put him out of my mind—my heart? What’s the matter with me?

“Peri?” Atheris’s voice in the darkness was very soft. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Nothing’s wrong.” Oh, Bright Ones, don’t let him speak to me that way, his voice like that. Don’t let him—

Then Atheris’s fingers, shaking slightly, touched her hand ever so gently, and Peri bit back a sob, knowing herself lost once more. His mouth tasted like wine and despair, and the air was too cold for the salty moisture on his cheeks to be sweat, but Peri could not bring herself to question or care, not when his skin burned so hot against hers and his fingers dug into her shoulders so hard that his nails drew blood. There was no Sarkond or Agrond or Bregond here, no barrier between trust and betrayal; only darkness and heat and this aching soul-deep understanding they shared, the unconsenting surrender to a hunger that could not be refused. The kiss of steel on steel—

And all the while knowing that when the battlefield fell still and silent at the end, the darkness was not deep enough to hide guilt and regret.

In the morning Peri dozed in the wagon, lulled by the monotonous creak of the wheels. She felt a little stronger than the day before, perhaps, but still not back to her normal level of energy, and that worried her; tonight they had to get away from this caravan, whether she was ready or not. Maybe a good long nap would help.

Atheris was quiet, solicitous and seemingly worried about Peri but rarely meeting her eyes. He seemed to be dozing now, too, and no surprise; in fact, neither of them had gotten much sleep the night before. Peri came out of her doze and flushed a little at the recollection. A good thing Atheris had placed their tent away from the others.

Bright Ones, what was the matter with her? She’d heard stories in court about her father and her mother—vague references to her parents’ legendary and sometimes scandalous passion, delivered with a chuckle and a knowing grin. Judging from the number of times she found her parents’ door securely locked (Estann had chuckled and said that precaution stemmed from a poorly timed visit by the chambermaid years before), Peri imagined that that passion had in no way declined, only been tempered by a greater caution. But she very much doubted that even her fiery mother would understand, much less condone, her behavior of the last days.

Peri pushed the thought aside—she was tired, so tired of following the same track in her mind around and around in circles—and let the creak of the wagon wheels, the steady clop-clop of the horses’ hooves lull her again.

It seemed she’d only just closed her eyes, however, before she jolted awake to Atheris’s touch on her shoulder.

“Peri,” he murmured, very quietly. “Wake up. We’re in Rocarran.”

“What!” Peri jolted upright and peered out the back of the wagon. Atheris was right; they were just passing through a broad gate in a heavy wooden stockade—in no way as dilapidated or laxly manned as the gate to Darnalek—that could only guard a holding of some significance. Everywhere she looked Peri could see priests, guards, peasants carrying their belongings and their children.

“What are we doing in Rocarran?” she demanded in a whisper. “It was supposed to be another day away.”

“I know!” Atheris snapped back in a whisper. “I know! But here we are nonetheless.”

“Well, what are we going to do about it?” Peri asked, clasping her hands hard to hide their shaking. “We’d better get out now, head back out the gate—”

He shook his head.

“There are priests and guards everywhere,” he said. “We came with a pilgrimage, obviously to visit the temple. It will surely be noticed if we try to slip out the gate without doing so. And yet I fear there could be priests from my temple here who might recognize me.” He hesitated a moment longer, then sighed and pulled his pilgrim’s robe out of his pack.

“I’m not putting mine back on,” Peri said firmly. “It reeks.”

“You need not,” Atheris said, shrugging, “if you are prepared to take off your sword. It would not be permitted in the temple, and without the robe you cannot conceal it.”

Peri grimaced but unpacked the robe and donned it before her nose could overcome her common sense.

“If we mingle with the crowd entering the temple,” Atheris said softly, “we should be able to slip back out unobtrusively without attracting attention. For now, relax and wait for the wagon to stop.”

Peri sat back, but she fumed, her fingers clenching nervously. What kind of miscalculation meant a difference of a whole day’s journey? And what in the world were they to do now? This was a temple, not a marketplace; there’d be no horses for sale here, and there’d be guards aplenty, too, to keep the crowds under control and to look out for the pickpockets that always seemed to attend such gatherings. So there was no way to buy horses, and precious little hope of stealing them either. There was no choice, really, but to sneak out of Rocarran as best they could on foot. Maybe they could join some pilgrims journeying back from the temple, although to the best of her observation they hadn’t passed anyone traveling in the opposite direction. No, something of considerable significance was happening here, and that meant vigilant guards at their posts on the lookout for any suspicious behavior.

The wagon slowed, stopped. Peri made sure her mask of bandages was securely in place before she and Atheris scrambled out the back of the wagon with their packs. Then, turning, she froze as she saw the Temple of Eregis at Rocarran for the first time.

The huge stone edifice was enough to take her breath away. She’d never seen anything so massive—not the royal castles of Bregond or even Agrond, not the grandest temple in Tarkesh—or so ancient in her life. The weathering of the massive stone blocks of the building had nothing to do with the strange decay Peri had seen in Darnalek; this holy place was obviously hundreds, if not thousands, of years old, with a grim and looming dignity befitting its antiquity. Gruesome statues of malformed beasts loomed over the few windows and doors; Peri’s mind flitted back unwillingly to those horrible, unfortunate pilgrims she’d seen, although none of them were in evidence now—they’d likely arrived long ago and entered the temple in one of the streams of pilgrims she could see marching in every door. Where did they come out? Perhaps there was an exit at the back.

“This way,” Atheris murmured, tugging her toward one of the doors. “If you stand there staring much longer, somebody will wonder.”

Peri hurriedly dropped her eyes and followed Atheris, her skin crawling. Despite its size and antiquity there was nothing so strange about the building itself—in fact, the way the stone was laid somehow reminded her of some of the older temples and stone buildings in Bregond. But there was a feeling of power in that temple that both drew at Peri and repelled her. The huge cold edifice seemed to gaze down at her, and her disguise of robes and rags suddenly seemed thin and inadequate. Somehow she felt it knew who she was, waited for her to walk in its doors, waiting and licking long, sharp teeth in hungry anticipation ...

“You are behaving,” Atheris said between his teeth, “like a horse thief expecting capture. Are you deliberately trying to attract attention?”

“I can’t go in there,” Peri said, her fingers digging into his arm. “Atheris, I can’t.”

“We must,” he said grimly. “Peri, you cannot possibly desire to enter that temple less than I do. Now follow me quietly and stop looking over your shoulder. You are a pilgrim come eagerly here, if you remember.”

Peri closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing herself to follow Atheris more quickly.

I am Perian, she told herself resolutely. I am warrior. I am earth, deep-rooted and strong, mother of steel—

They fell in behind a line of worshipers waiting for entrance to the temple. Peri scanned the entrances as unobtrusively as she could. The priests at the doors were not wearing swords—apparently not every priest was trained in the Ithuara, and that substantiated Atheris’s supposition that he’d been destined for training as a Bone Hunter—but the doors were also flanked by more secular-looking guards, all sturdy and armed not only with swords, but crossbows as well. Each pilgrim stopped at the door, speaking briefly to the priest, but as far as Peri could see, nobody was searched or—to her disappointment—turned away.

“Hide your healer’s bag in your tunic,” Atheris murmured, tucking the pouch of gold into his sleeve, “as well as anything else you cannot bear to lose.”

Peri obeyed surreptitiously.

“Thieves?” she whispered.

“No.” He nodded toward the temple, and looking again, she saw what he meant. There was a pile of packs, bags, pouches, and bedrolls by the door that grew as each pilgrim passed inside under the guards’ stern gaze. Obviously Eregis exacted a price for His blessings.

“We can’t lose our supplies!” Peri hissed. “I doubt there’s a drop of clean water or a speck of good forage between here and Bregond.”

“We have gold aplenty,” Atheris muttered back, keeping a neutral expression on his face. “These pilgrims are not eating and drinking Eregis’s blessings. There must be merchants hereabouts selling them food and drink. Nothing besides the gold and the healer’s bag cannot be replaced.”

Peri liked this less and less every minute, but by now they were too close to the temple doorway for her to make any further comment. She took a deep breath and reminded herself sternly that once they reached Bregond, she could survive on the plains with nothing more than a waterskin and a knife. She carefully adjusted her robe to ascertain that her sword and healer’s bag made no telltale bulges, then sighed and followed Atheris forward.

The man ahead of them stepped up to the priest, laying his pack on the pile beside the door.

“Do you seek the touch of Eregis which heals all ills, or the witness of his prophet?” the priest asked gravely.

“To witness,” the man murmured, bowing his head.

“Take the right-hand hallway,” the priest said, and the man stepped into the temple and out of Peri’s sight. Then Atheris pulled her forward, and she lowered her eyes hurriedly.

“Do you seek the touch of Eregis which heals all ills, or the witness of his prophet?” the priest asked.

“I seek to witness,” Atheris said quietly. “My companion seeks the touch of Eregis.”

“Take the right-hand hallway,” the priest told him; to Peri’s horror, the priest turned to her, laying his hand on her shoulder. “You are honored for your courage. Take the left-hand hallway to the presence of He Who Sleeps.”

Peri hurried into the temple after Atheris, glad to free herself of the priest’s touch. The hallway was lit at regular intervals by torches, and after a dozen paces it forked into two halls, the leftmost leading rather sharply upward. Peri saw a few sickly pilgrims hobbling up that hall.

“Now what?” she whispered, hesitating.

“This way,” Atheris said, pulling her hastily into the right-hand hallway, sparing the other hall the briefest possible glance; to Peri’s surprise he shivered.

“I thought I was supposed to go left. What’s up there?” she whispered.