Forged In Flame (In Her Name: The First Empress, Book 2) (5 page)

Then, as quickly as it had come, the agony began to recede. Blinking her eyes open, she was ashamed to see that her breakfast had soiled his breastplate. “I am sorry, my priest.” 

“That is nothing, child.” Ayan-Dar gently helped her to a sitting position. With a wry grin, he said, “You spoke of the powers of the priesthood. This one is useful, but has likely won few battles.” With a wave of his hand, the mess smeared across his armor fell away to the ground. Producing a bright red cloth from a pouch on his belt, he wiped her mouth clean, then handed her the bag of ale he had strapped around his shoulder. “Drink this, but it will not taste right to your tongue. Nothing will over the next day or so as your body adjusts.”

Keel-Tath took a swig of the ale. “Ugh!” She spat it out. “That tastes like…”

“
Magthep
piss?” 

She nodded, and Ayan-Dar laughed.

“That is what T’ier-Kunai said when the fire came upon her. Or so she told me.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, of course. Normally a healer helps the young females through this time, but it looks like you have only a broken down old priest to lean upon.” He looked toward the city. “To satisfy my conscience, we should have a healer examine you to be sure all is in order.”

“Can we?” She handed back the bag of ale, unwilling to take another sip. “Will they not hand me over to Syr-Nagath?”

Shaking his head, Ayan-Dar said, “No. I am sure the Dark Queen will discover that you are here, for she has eyes and ears everywhere, but there is little she can do. Her pestilence has not yet reached this continent, and the kingdoms, including Ku’ar-Amir, are united against her. And the Nyur-A’il priesthood, of course, will not interfere.”

At that, Keel-Tath gave him a dark look, a glimpse of the even darker thoughts that ran through her soul about the priesthoods.

Ayan-Dar stood up. “Are you fit to walk?”

“Yes, my priest.” She got to her feet, her legs unsteady beneath her. She walked beside him as he slowly led her along an ancient path in the ledge where the rock had been worn smooth, heading south, in the direction of the city. Remembering that both of them were still covered in blood, she said, “Should we not cleanse ourselves before we greet anyone, show proper respect?”

He shook his head. “No, child. While I do not expect to find enemies here, we may not find any friends. None should be fool enough to meddle with a Desh-Ka priest and his ward, but the blood of those we have slain shall be a warning to those who might be tempted to raise their swords against us.”

CHAPTER FOUR

The Seafarers

The city was farther away than Keel-Tath had imagined, and it was past noon by the time they arrived at the nearest gate. Like almost every city, Ku’ar-Amir had tall and thick stone walls topped with battlements, which were lined with warriors. More were guarding the gate and standing watch around the vast perimeter. Unlike the walls of the temple and Keel-A’ar, the stone of which these walls were made was nearly white, the same color as the cliff from which they’d come. Then she understood: the entire city, which was larger even than Keel-A’ar, had been cut from the stone face of the land where it met the sea. Buildings, mostly golden-domed structures of rock bearing ornate carvings and the runes of The Tongue, rose up in great terraces from the harbor level to the top of the escarpment, nearly a league above. 

“They know that the storm sweeping across the world will soon blow in their direction,” Ayan-Dar told her as they approached the first ring of guards that defended the gate. “Normally there would not be nearly so many warriors watching the approaches.”

Keel-Tath stopped goggling at the buildings that soared above and sought to focus on what Ayan-Dar was saying. “Some of them are as young as I,” she whispered.

“Yes. They must have stripped the
kazhas
of every child who can wield a sword. The priests and priestesses of Nyur-A’il cannot be pleased.”

“Is such a thing even permitted? Does not the Way demand that those who have not completed their Seventh Challenge not be committed to war?”

Ayan-Dar grunted. “It does, but it is also written that the masters and mistresses of any domain have first claim to those living under their banner. The priesthoods normally hold sway, for few lords have the courage or need to challenge them. But this is a different war from any that has been fought since the end of the Second Age. Few but the Dark Queen understand that. But if the lords here are willing to pull even the young from the
kazhas
to strengthen their defenses, then perhaps the veil of ignorance has been lifted from their eyes.”

The eyes of the warriors had been following them for some time, and now that they were close they knelt and saluted Ayan-Dar.

“Welcome to the city of Ku’ar-Amir, priest of the Desh-Ka,” the captain of the guard said. “My mistress welcomes all who do not live under the banner of Syr-Nagath.” He looked up and fixed his eyes on Keel-Tath, who returned his gaze without flinching.

Ayan-Dar returned the salute. “She is a disciple of our order, and has no love of the Dark Queen. We would rest and take a meal in your good city, if your mistress would permit.” 

“She would. And you did not have to coat yourselves in blood for my benefit, great warrior priest of the Desh-Ka.” 

Keel-Tath turned from the guard to see a tall and lithe female warrior step through the gate, followed by a dozen bodyguards. Keel-Tath could tell from the length of her hair that she must be nearly as old as Ayan-Dar. But she was still beautiful, and Keel-Tath caught a glint in Ayan-Dar’s eye, and she could feel a flood of warmth in her blood from his emotions. 

When the tall warrior was only a pace away, she knelt, as did all those in sight of her, even the warriors on the wall. She bowed her head and rendered a salute, which Ayan-Dar returned with great solemnity. 

“Li’an-Salir,” he said softly as the warrior stood and gripped his forearm in hers, the greeting of warriors well known to one another. “It has been a long time.”

***

Keel-Tath walked beside Ayan-Dar as they followed Li’an-Salir’s First, the warrior who acted as her sword hand in all things, to the great hall. She’d had little time to speak to Ayan-Dar since their arrival. After leaving her in the care of a healer, who said, after staring long and hard at Keel-Tath’s hair and talons and examining her thoroughly, that all was in order, Ayan-Dar went on some errand of his own. 

Once the healer pronounced her healthy and released her, Keel-Tath had indulged in the luxury of a long, hot soak in the communal bath, washing the blood and grime from her body and rinsing clean her hair. When she emerged nude from the steaming water, a young robed male stood waiting, holding her armor, weapons, and undergarment. He ran an appreciative eye over her body, then bowed and left her be when she took her things. She stared after him for a moment, then looked down at herself, wondering what it was that he saw.

After donning her armor, she made her way from the bath to find Ayan-Dar and the First waiting for her. The priest, too, was clean, and his armor seemed to shine brighter than usual. His mood, both in his expression and the emotions she felt in her blood, had lightened considerably.

“Who is Li’an-Salir?” Keel-Tath asked her mentor.

“She is the mistress of this place.” He turned and narrowed his eye at her. “Were you not paying attention?”

“Of course I was, my priest,” she said, trying not to show her exasperation. “And you know perfectly well what I mean.”

Ayan-Dar looked at the First and rolled his eye heavenward. “Impudent, is she not?” Then, to Keel-Tath, he said, “She was my only lover, if you must know, and she also bested me in all seven Challenges at the
kazha
. Like you, she excelled at everything. I think the only thing she never did was to kill a
genoth
with her bare hands.” His tone lost some of its levity. “And she was one of the other survivors of the doomed expedition to T’lar-Gol in my long-lost youth about which I told you.” He paused. “This is the first time I have seen her in these many years.”

“But I thought you said that you come here when you need to find some peace.”

“To the clearing where I took you, yes,” he replied. “But I never had cause to come to the city. My only travel to Ural-Murir on behalf of the temple has been to confer with the priesthood of Nyur-A’il, and even that was on rare occasion. The high priestess seems to think my skills at diplomacy are lacking.” He shrugged. “It was enough to know that she was alive. I could feel that much in my blood. Beyond that, our ways had long since parted.”

“But you wish they hadn’t.”

Li’an-Salir’s First threw Ayan-Dar a bemused glance as he said, mild annoyance creeping into his voice, “There are many things I might wish, child, but wishing for them does not make them so. And you should not bully old warrior priests. It is unseemly.”

Keel-Tath spent the remainder of the walk in silence, gawking at the city. This was, after all, the first city she’d ever seen beyond the graveyard of Keel-A’ar. She had read about many cities, including Ku’ar-Amir, in the Books of Time, but her idle studies of the ancient texts could not fully prepare her for this. Even though the city was on heightened watch for any sign of the Dark Queen, the warriors and robed castes went about their business, and the streets were alive with the vibrant colors of the robed ones and the chatter of daily life. The stone of the buildings she passed was like the Books of Time, and told in words and images the history of the city. It had been founded in the First Age, when her kind had first spread across the world and (so the keepers of the Books of Time told her) were not quite so warlike. But such cities did not grow old and die, for the builders kept them pristine, repairing the ravages of time and war, and modifying them at the will of their masters or mistresses. She looked down and saw her reflection in the cobbles of the street, which were made from obsidian glass that was a striking contrast to the near-white stone of which the buildings were made. 

The main street that led from the gate was the only one in the city that ran straight and level. From what Keel-Tath could see of the buildings ahead, some of which were huge, this central thoroughfare formed the heart of Ku’ar-Amir. It joined the gate through which they’d passed with a similar gate on the far side of the city. In between, other streets branched off and either led down to the massive harbor or up into the terraced ranks of buildings that rose up to the top of the escarpment that overlooked the sea. 

But before they reached any of the buildings at the city’s center, they entered what she assumed was the city’s main marketplace. She had never seen so many people before, and twice Ayan-Dar had been forced to stop and wait for her after she’d stopped to gawk at something, totally unaware that she had done so. 

The smells were at once familiar and different. They passed vendors bartering food, weapons, and other items of daily life. The aroma of a dozen different kinds of meat and fish, much of it raw, but some seared and flavored with burning wood, reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since that morning, and her mouth flooded with saliva. There were also fruits, cakes made of grain and other things she’d never seen before.

Her stomach growled, and she cringed in embarrassment as Ayan-Dar glanced back at her. She could tell he was trying to suppress a grin, but not managing very well.

As they made their way through the throng of robed ones and warriors, Keel-Tath saw that those in view of Ayan-Dar knelt and saluted, rendering their respects to a warrior priest as was proper.

But after doing so, their eyes fixed on her, and the raucous banter of the market gradually stilled. By the time they were halfway across, the market had fallen silent, with every set of eyes glued to the young female warrior with white hair. Their stares were not hostile, but she would not call them friendly, either, if there was such a thing as a friendly stare. She could sense little from most of them, for there was very little of the Desh-Ka bloodline to be found amongst them. What she could sense was mingled curiosity and suspicion, with a tinge of foreboding. Even though it was faint, it was not a pleasant emotional sensation.

Feeling the first prickle of fear, she forced herself not to walk any faster or get closer to Ayan-Dar and the First. She would not shame her priest or herself before these strangers. Instead, she held herself straighter, palm resting on the handle of her sword, and swept her eyes across the crowd.
You are a disciple of the Desh-Ka, in the presence of one of the order’s most powerful priests, she told herself. You need not be afraid
.

At last, they reached the end of the market. While Keel-Tath would not have admitted as much to anyone, especially Ayan-Dar, she felt an acute sense of relief when they left the crowd behind. She was not accustomed to such scrutiny. There were other people along the streets, of course, who reacted much the same as those in the market, but there were not nearly so many.

The street opened onto a central plaza. In the very center, of course, was a
Kal’ai-Il
. Unlike the one at the temple, which was of dark granite, the stone used in this one was white, quarried from the face of the escarpment ages ago. This stone was much softer than granite, and to her eyes it was not only scarred and pitted, but looked like it had slowly melted in places, worn down by wind and rain. Several of the enormous cap stones and pillars that formed the rings around the central dais had been replaced over time, but she knew that they had been put in place only with the use of muscle power by hundreds of warriors and simple tools. Building and maintaining the
Kal’ai-Il
was not the province of the builders and their magic.

On the seaward side of the plaza was a broad stairway, at least a hundred arm-lengths wide, that was flanked by spires that rose nearly a quarter of a league into the sky. At the top of the stairs was a promenade that looked out upon the harbor and the sea.