Temple of the Traveler: Book 02 - Dreams of the Fallen (12 page)

The female guard on the right patted him down with her kid gloves and groped the area where his testicles had once been. Jotham blinked but said nothing. “That’s because members of the court would have a man killed for doing this. What’s in the leather case?”

“A rare book about history and political intrigue.”

The woman took a peek in the case and grunted, “Do they actually pay you to read?”

Jotham considered the question. “Under the terms of my employment I do a great deal of reading, but I confess that I am not being paid for this excursion. I had to come here today or learn to enjoy a prison cell.”

“I hear that,” muttered the left guard. “The harem is the third door on your right. Jolia will be glad to see you, though. She’s been begging us for some kind of entertainment for months.”

“Hasn’t the emperor provided her with amusement?” asked Jotham.

The guard with the bent nose snickered. The other elbowed her and hissed, “You don’t talk about that, Mister. Not here, not ever. Understand?”

“I’ll be the soul of discretion, madam. In return, I would ask a favor. I was supposed to be gone from this place already. If anyone inquires . . .” the priest said, leading them without technically asking them to lie.

The pair of guards nodded. “Make Jolia happy, and it’ll be like you left hours ago.”

Jotham bowed his thanks and went inside. Other guards pursuing him would be misdirected, and these women would never let any men pass, even to search. He could see a back exit at the end of the hall already. However, to keep his word, he stopped off at the harem chamber for what he hoped would be a brief visit.

A brown-haired woman with brown eyes sat on plush cushions stacking dominoes in a pile. She seemed quite tall, but adequately proportioned. She wore expensive, blue silks draped around her in a way that was more revealing than concealing. She was engaged in building a domino wall along the hill of cushions, with a miniature castle at the top. When Jolia turned to see what the servant was bringing her, her face transformed from dull boredom to excitement. “A guest! Have a seat.”

Jotham held out a hand to indicate the elaborate model. “I fear I’d cause earthquakes and ruin your palace.”

The woman stood and flipped the contents of the cushion off onto the floor with a clatter. “We have palaces every day, but never talking. I’m Jolia. Sit.”

The priest did so. “re a gracious hostess. I am called Jotham the Tenor, and your guards thought I might be able to entertain you.” Her face brightened at this prospect. The eunuch started by showing the concubine another interesting game to play with the black domino tiles. It involved standing them on end and knocking them all over in a chain reaction. When he demonstrated with a few tiles, she clapped her hands with delight. They began making a longer row while chatting.

The girl was sweet and lonely but the conversation wasn’t very deep. He’d ask a question like, “Why don’t you collect books to read?”

She’d respond, “Why would I want to ruin my eyesight like that? And the crow’s feet!”

By the end of the long row of dominoes, they had established a rapport. Jotham said, “If you don’t mind my asking, how did a woman from Mandibos become a lady of the court?”

“Really?” In shock, he turned to the mirror on the wall. The concubine was right! In the last passage through the Doors, his brown eye had turned blue, leaving him with a matched set. “Well, people see that every day. You’re exceptional. A lady should never be ashamed of her qualities.”

“Yeah. Men have been staring at my qualities for years. I made a living of it,” Jolia laughed. “Back when Sandarac was a traveling magician, I was his partner, his assistant for the act.” She lingered on the word ‘partner’ with nostalgia, caressing it fondly like a jade figurine.

“Traveling sounds interesting. What sort of show?”

“Some mind reading and sleight of hand, but escape-artist tricks mainly. There wasn’t much real power involved, but he could really work a crowd. I’d distract the audience while he wriggled free. It was fun while it lasted. I know you expected a different sort of magic.”

Jotham shrugged to indicate he wasn’t judging. “You made people happy. And his skill with the crowd showed the seeds of his true ability, statecraft. That’s illusion and working the crowd on a grander scale. What ended your act?”

She focused on the black tiles in her slender fingers. “After the Scattering, anyone with the slightest royal blood in them would be held for ransom or eliminated to improve someone else’s claim.”

“Did he use his skills to escape from this prison?”

“Yes, he got me a message the first time,” she said. “The Keepers always like to hear that part of the story. I heard that it’s some part of a prophecy that strengthens Sandarac’s claim on the throne.”

“But they punished him more each time.” Her face darkened. “Eventuallyagician, Ile to contact the lords of the north and brought him rescue. This position is a reward for my loyalty. But Sandarac’s changed lately. He’s been moody and withdrawn. He never has time to visit me any more.”

Jotham nodded. “This is all to be expected with his wedding coming up so soon.”

Jolia’s delicate features froze. “Wedding?”

“Yes, the bride is arriving by ship any day now.” He stopped when he saw her expression shift from shock to tears. “And he didn’t tell you. Oh, dear. I should leave.”

“He swore I would be the only one,” she stammered, putting her hands up to her face to cover her shame.

“The kings probably pressured him into it. He needed an heir from approved stock for the dynasty to have credibility,” Jotham explained.

Something about the statement made her snort. “That’ll never happen. Damn him! I was good enough to warm his bed for ten years, but not good enough to stand by his side in public.” She clenched her upraised hands into narrow fists. “I won’t let him hide me away in the servants’ wing just to visit when he’s feeling down or needs to hear from someone he can trust, someone who’ll tell him what no one else dares, someone who has stood by him from the beginning.”

The priest was biting his lower lip. When the woman finished her tirade, she glanced at him. “I’m sorry, good sir. You must think I’m horribly overreacting.”

Jotham whispered, treading carefully. “Dear woman, you under-react most gravely, I fear. Do you know what the most common gift is for the groom to give to his new bride as a sign of loyalty?”

Jolia’s fingers went to her own neck, stroking it like a cat. “Oh.”

“Yes. She rules the harem. Every empress to date has eliminated the chief concubine lest a bastard challenge the reign of her own children.”

“Not long term, not unless the South wins the war,” Jolia laughed darkly. “But short term I might know of a person, a kind architect who came here often. Lord Simon always answered my questions and let me look at his beautiful drawings. He has the most gorgeous estate overlooking the river about a day’s walk northeast of here. All the nobles want to use him. He could name any price, but he never wants to leave his wife for very long.” She sighed at this. “Wives, they’re a bloody epidemic these days.”

“We should gather a fw of your things for the road.”

Jolia agreed and started to reach for the servant bell. However, he grabbed the rope above her hand and held it firmly until she realized what she was doing. “Right. It’s hard to sneak when you tell everyone. Grab the case off that pillow, and I’ll load up a few things from the next room. We’ll slip out through the garden gate.”

When she had everything she could grab easily, including a few baubles and toys for later conversion to coin, she put on her servant’s spare cloak and gave her luxurious surroundings one more looking over. “Another illusion over. On to the next town. Good sir, why are you helping me in such a risky venture?”

Jotham considered for only two or three beats. “You’re the soul of kindness, and the only real good I have found in this maze of deceit. To be frank, I’ve been wanting to escape it myself since the moment I fell into this mess.”

Jolia smiled. As she departed, she tipped over the first domino in the row they had planted, and the cascade of events started.

At the exit to the palace pleasure gardens stood the final hurdle, a hand of Somnambulists, standing on each side of the path. The troubles on the Holy Mountain had increased the security measures. The ornate, iron trellis gate was temporarily open, but only because another hand of Somnambulists was departing through it. “How will we pass?” Jolia asked in panic.

The priest held out one of the string of bells, still attached to his robes. “Just hold this string, and follow me. Don’t speak until we have left the royal quarter.” He shook the bells loudly in a steady rhythm.

“Do you perform magic?” she whispered.

The priest did not have time to quibble about the difference between magic and miracles, or the simple application of an opponent’s force against himself. The gate would soon be closing. In truth, Jotham was now probably the most powerful human spell caster she would ever meet, but he had been saving his mana for fourteen years for a very special purpose. He merely laid his finger across his lips and pulled her along briskly.

With a gentle jingling of bells, the pair escaped the most secure building in the new empire without notice.

Back at Tamarind fortress, scouts and eager family members trickled in from Innisport. At first, they rejoiced that the invaders from Bablios had fled. However, they soon learned that the invaders had stolen, butchered, or burned anything of lasting value before leaving. The joy was short-lived. Animals, farmhouses, and crops had been destroyed; it would be a lean year and a leaner campaign. But just as a pole charred in the flames made for a harder spear point, so did the loss of their homes make the men of the Brotherhood of Executioners ache for revenge on their enemies. As they gathered what supplies they could, the dark-skinned guildmaster with the booming voice, Dhagmurna, sent his personal guards and clerk to handle a small but vital assignment.

Once the transaction was completed, they returned to the guild hall with a twenty-year-old servant girl by the name of Anna. Dhagmurna and the other generals looked at her briefly like a piece of meat. She had short, black hair inexpertly cut with a kitchen knife, and was solidly built without being fat. Anna wore plain, homespun farming trousers and a tunic. Say have been able to pass for a smooth-faced boy if it hadn’t been for her ample breasts. Anna didn’t speak, but her large, brown eyes took in everything. When she saw the hollow man in the corner under the Kragen banner, she knew that dark times were coming to the land.

After staring wordlessly for several minutes, the Brotherhood elite threw her into an empty grain silo with a solid, oak door until Nerissa could find time to question her. While she waited for her audience with the guildmaster’s wife, Anna rested. She’d been so very tired for so long. It was ironic that only war could have brought her this period of peace. When she woke in the morning, she heard her guard chatting with one of the many delivery men who were bringing supplies into the fortress for the mobilization. The entire town was marching to the capital.

“Nah, just some slave House Kragen wanted. Even ruined, Brewmaster Strenk didn’t want to sell her. He said she was too important to his operation. Seems she learned about brewing from her grandfather, Zgetti. I heard she also keeps an eye on the books.”