by Anne Bishop
“Didn’t,” Zeela said. “If I’m going to be seeing my mothers in a couple of days, I wouldn’t lie about how a wound is healing. Now…”
Lee felt the difference, the slight change in muscle tone, the scent of a different woman.
Benham sucked in a breath. “That’s the damnedest thing.” He gave Lee a sour look before gently examining Zhahar’s head. “Got a good-size bump there, but I’m not feeling more than that. Didn’t hit her hard enough to crack her skull. She was probably dazed by the blow and disoriented enough to scare someone.”
“Can she travel?”
“I’m right here,” Zhahar grumbled.
“Getting rattled in a wagon won’t make her feel good, but I can’t see it doing her—them?—harm,” Benham said. “And you’re traveling with an Apothecary. Next best thing to a Meddik.”
“Then we’ve got to go.” Lee picked up Zhahar, grunting at the weight. From the physical contact he’d had with her, he hadn’t expected her to be this heavy.
As he walked back to the wagon, he only half listened to Benham’s telling Nik to get some ice, aware that Denys kept pace with him.
“I’m not going to drop her,” Lee panted.
“Didn’t say you would,” Denys replied. “But you should let me get her into the wagon. I’m used to handling bodies, and if you bang her head against the doorframe, you’ll have Kobrah chewing on you.”
Couldn’t argue with the truth of that, so he handed Zhahar to Denys when they reached the wagon.
“Looks like we don’t have as much time as we’d hoped,” the Apothecary said as he watched Nik hand Kobrah a filled ice bag.
“Not much time at all,” Lee agreed. “We need to go north, but Zhahar will have to tell us exactly where we’re headed.”
“Plenty of roads lead to the heart of Vision, and it’s not odd to see an Apothecary’s wagon headed that way. I come this way at least once each season to buy ingredients at the bazaar I can’t find anywhere else in the city.” The Apothecary huffed out a breath. “You should stay in the wagon with the sisters. The other one can sit on the driving seat with me.”
“All right.” He thought for a moment. “You’re not disturbed about them being a Tryad?”
“You and the Shaman knew they came from a different race of people. It didn’t bother either of you, so there’s no reason to let it bother me.” The Apothecary gave him a long look. “The one who threatened the sisters. Where did he go?”
“To a place that resonates with the darkest part of his heart,” Lee replied.
“To the darkest part of his heart? Or the darkest part of yours?”
Denys stepped out of the wagon. Lee started to step up, then stopped, tilting his head to catch the sound.
Wind chimes and gongs.
Would they be enough to create an access point? Maybe not for most Landscapers, but Glorianna had created access points to landscapes from a single brick or a stone that held the resonance of the place. If he brought gongs and chimes that carried the Dark and Light resonances of the Asylum, would that be enough for Glorianna to get them back here?
“Fetch three of the wind chimes and three of the gongs,” he said. “Doesn’t matter which ones.”
Kobrah poked her head out of the wagon and started to protest, then looked at him and said nothing while Nik and Denys hurried to the temple and returned with the gongs and wind chimes. They handed them up to Kobrah, who began fussing about where to put them.
“Guardians and Guides,” Lee snapped. “Just store the damn things and get down from there. You’re riding on the seat with the Apothecary.”
A silence. Then a flurry of sound before Kobrah rushed out of the wagon and muttered, “Maybe you’re a Chayne after all.”
Lee looked at Benham, Denys, and Nik. “Travel lightly.” Then he stepped inside the wagon, closed the door, and sat on the floor beside the narrow bunk where Zhahar lay.
The wagon began moving. Not with the speed Lee would have liked, but the window behind the driver’s seat was open partway for air, and he could hear all the other carts and carriages around them as soon as they left the Asylum. No one would be moving quickly during the busiest time of the day, but another wagon plodding along with the rest would be less noticed than a wagon in a hurry.
As he kept watch over Zhahar and coaxed Sholeh and Zeela to come into view for a few minutes, just to be sure they were all right, he thought about the Apothecary’s question. The one who threatened the sisters. Where did he go? To the darkest part of his heart or the darkest part of yours?
They were good questions. Too bad he didn’t have answers.
Chapter 20
A fire burned beneath his skin. A vicious, terrible fire that tried to burrow deeper, reaching for heart and lungs. But raging water battled against the fire, drawing it up and up and, finally, drawing it out through skin so charred it flaked away.
At least, that’s how it seemed.
As Danyal gave himself to that battle between fire and water, he dreamed of Kanzi, Nalah, and the baby struggling to survive, trying to scratch out a little food from the barren, cracked earth that had once been the beautiful city of Vision.
A wall of water thundering over the edge of the world. Thorn trees with sinuous limbs, their fruit the rotting corpses of their prey. And a voice that was and wasn’t Ephemera, saying, Despair made the deserts, and hope the oases.
Heat lightning and the quiet of a simple garden. And the fire burning beneath his skin.
Danyal opened his eyes and looked into the dark eyes of the man sitting in a chair beside the bed.
The man gave Danyal a gentle smile as he closed a book and set it on the bedside table. “So,” he said. “You’re awake. That is good.”
“Am I a prisoner?”
Humor—and understanding—in those eyes. “No. When you arrived here, you were injured and asked for help. We’ve given what help we can.”
Danyal shifted, then gasped at the pain the movement caused in his shoulder and hip.
“Easy. Your injuries should not be taken lightly.”
“Could I have some water?”
“Of course. Let me help you sit on the side of the bed. I think that will cause you the least discomfort.”
As the man helped him shift from lying on his left side to sitting on the edge of the bed, Danyal got a better sense of his companion.
About his own age, with hair as dark as the eyes. A cadence in the voice that he didn’t recognize. And Light—with a hint of shadows. That was the heart-core of this man. Under other circumstances, he wouldn’t hesitate to trust that heart, but now that hint of shadows made him uneasy.
After going into an adjoining room, the man returned with a glass of water. He handed it to Danyal, then sat in the chair and said, “I am Yoshani. You are in the Den of Iniquity. This room belongs to the Den’s Justice Maker.” He smiled, genuinely amused, as he made a graceful gesture that took in the decor. “Not a typical place one might expect to find men such as us—at least according to the Den’s residents.” The amusement faded. “But you needed help swiftly, and this was the closest place they could bring you.”
The bridge. The pocket watch. The wizards and—
Danyal sucked in a breath, then moaned when even that much movement brought pain. “Wizards and a Dark Guide have come to the city of Vision. We need help.”
“I am not familiar with your city,” Yoshani said, “but if there is anyone in the world who can help you find answers, it is the people here.”
“I need—”
“To rest. Your sudden arrival has raised many questions and concerns. The people you need to talk to are making sure their pieces of Ephemera aren’t in danger. They will be back in a few hours. The physician from Aurora will be back in an hour to look at your injuries. He will decide what you can and can’t do.”
Danyal stared at Yoshani. “No one decides what I can do.”
Yoshani stared back. Then he laughed softly. “You aren’t used to li
ving around strong-minded women, are you?”
Before Danyal could decide what that had to do with anything, someone tapped on a door. The brown-haired man who talked about music and a wild child walked into the room.
“How are you?” the man asked Danyal.
“He is awake and alive—and not yet understanding why he should be grateful to be both,” Yoshani replied. He tipped his head to indicate the man. “This is Michael. He is a Magician from a country called Elandar.” Then he looked up at Michael. “Our guest has not yet gifted us with his name.”
“I am Danyal. I am a Shaman in the city of Vision.” Unless one of them had visited the city, they might not understand what a Shaman was.
Michael studied him too long for comfort. “I thought Shamans were holy men like Yoshani here. But the music in you has dark notes under the bright, so I’m thinking Shamans are another kind of Landscaper—more like the Magicians.”
“What is a Magician?” Danyal asked stiffly.
“Ill-wisher. Luck-bringer.” The look in Michael’s eyes was now sharp edged but still friendly. “So I have dark notes in me too.”
A warning.
“Shamans are the voice of the world,” Danyal said.
Michael nodded but didn’t look impressed. “Just so you know, the Den is one of Belladonna’s landscapes. You may be a voice in your part of the world, but here Ephemera answers to her.”
Danyal shivered.
Belladonna. Lee’s sister. The monster that Evil feared. She was here?
“I have to leave,” he said.
“To go where?” Yoshani asked gently. “How will you get back to your part of the world?”
“You came here looking for help,” Michael said. “You’re going to walk away without talking to anyone?”
Good questions. Too bad he didn’t have answers to Yoshani’s questions and knew the answer to Michael’s. “When can I talk to the people who might be able to help?”
“If the physician says you’re well enough, we can take you down to Philo’s for something to eat. Or we can ask the others to gather here if you don’t feel strong enough to be up and about.”
Danyal turned his head to look at his heavily bandaged right shoulder. When Yoshani had helped him sit up, he’d noticed the bandages on his right hip and outer thigh. “What’s wrong with me?”
Yoshani hesitated. “You were burned. At least, that’s the closest way to explain what happened. The physician has prescribed the best treatment based on other experience, but we weren’t sure how effective it would be in your case. However, your body seems to respond best to the things that help draw out the heat, like cool water and a plant extract that is used on sunburned skin. We think, given time and rest, that you will heal completely.”
He looked at Michael, then at Yoshani. “But you’re not sure. Why aren’t you sure?”
“Because,” Yoshani said, “you are the first person to survive being struck by wizards’ lightning.”
The physician arrived, expressed his opinion that the shoulder and hip were healing well, prescribed cool baths and the generous application of the plant extract, and said the skin would now benefit from being open to the air. He also told Danyal not to be alarmed when the skin blistered and peeled—and admitted that there was no way to know yet how much damage the lightning had done to the underlying muscle. But with work, it was hopeful that Danyal would regain full range of motion in both shoulder and hip.
Lucky to be alive.
A glancing strike.
His robe had provided some protection.
Exhausted from the examination and the cool bath that followed, Danyal fell asleep for a few hours—and dreamed of an oasis guarded by erotic statues.
When he woke the next time, Yoshani was gone, and the door to the bathroom was open. After making his way to that side of the room, Danyal noticed the other door into the bathroom was also open.
“Hello?” he called softly.
The blond-haired man appeared in the other doorway, gave Danyal a quick, appraising look, and grinned.
“Glad to see you’re not a prude. Although having holy men staying at a bordello is going to give the Den a bad reputation.”
Danyal hoped his embarrassment at being caught naked didn’t show. “A bad reputation?”
“The Den is a carnival of vices—gambling, whoring, drinking. You know.” The blond paused. “Well, maybe you don’t. Anyway, get any more of your kind showing up, and the next thing you know, the most potent stuff Hastings will be serving at his tavern is some fancy tea, and Philo will stop making Phallic Delights because the ‘ladies’ who come visiting have never seen a real penis, let alone put their mouths around one. I’m Teaser, by the way.”
For a moment, Danyal thought—hoped—the man had said he was teasing; then he realized that was his name.
“I’m Danyal. I’m a Shaman.”
“Shaman Danyal.” Teaser gave him an assessing look. “I might have heard about you.”
Was that good or bad? And where had he heard Teaser’s name before?
Teaser disappeared, then returned with a set of clothes. “Yours were crisped by the lightning, so we got you these. Mr. Finch has your old robe. He’s using it as a pattern to make a new one for you. You should have heard the discussion Mr. Finch, Lynnea, and Sebastian’s auntie had over a fine tailor being asked to make something as ordinary as a plain white robe. Not even a line of embroidery on the sleeves or hem!” He grinned. “They had to get a bolt of cloth from a tailor in Aurora because Mr. Finch doesn’t waste shelf space on such pedestrian fabrics, and he tried to insist that, given the choice, surely you would prefer something in leather, since you have the coloring for it.”
A tip of the head and an expression in Teaser’s eyes made Danyal wish he could cover himself without looking like a fool.
“Mr. Finch does have a point,” Teaser said. “You would look like a badass if you were wearing a long leather coat instead of that robe.”
Not sure if he should be appalled or pleased, Danyal extended his left hand. “May I have the clothes?”
“Sure.” Teaser crossed the bathroom and draped the clothes over Danyal’s left arm. “Your shoes are in front of the wardrobe. We can walk over to Philo’s when you’re ready. Or I can see if a demon cycle will give you a ride. Not sure about swinging a leg over one with a bad hip, though.”
“I think walking would do my hip some good.” And he wasn’t about to swing a leg over any kind of demon.
He retreated to the other room and sorted out the clothes. Shirt and trousers. A pair of socks. No under—
Danyal picked up the remaining bit of material and wondered why anyone would bother with something that was such a brief step away from nothing. Then he considered the trousers and decided something was better than nothing. Shamans weren’t celibate, but they weren’t…
He looked toward the bathroom door. Putting on the underwear and trousers, he walked back to the doorway. “Teaser?”
Teaser appeared in the other doorway, buttoning a fresh shirt. “Need some help?”
“No. I don’t mean to give offense, but I just wondered…What are you?”
“Incubus.” Teaser flashed him a grin. “You’re not my type. There are a few succubi in the Den who’d be willing to nibble on you if you’re interested.”
Incubus. Succubi. He knew what those words meant: sex demons. “Not right now.”
“What made you wonder?”
Was he hearing suspicion in the question? “The underwear.”
The laugh was boyish and naughty. “We gave you a modest pair.”
Having no response to that, Danyal retreated and finished dressing. A few minutes later, Teaser joined him, locked up the room, and gave him a supporting hand down the three flights of stairs. That care surprised him, especially since he didn’t see what Teaser had to gain from it.
When they walked out of the bordello and reached the main street, Danyal stopped. The colored lights and cobblestone s
treets and the edgy feel in the air hadn’t been caused by heat sickness. It was as if the bazaar at the center of Vision had blended with some of the shadow streets. Not a safe place for anyone looking for trouble, but not a deadly place at its core.
Although it could be.
Shaken by that certainty, Danyal followed Teaser the couple of blocks to Philo’s Place. This was the courtyard he had reached before he collapsed. And there was…
“Bull demons,” Teaser said. “They come here for the vegetable omelets. We’re using the inside room.” He opened a door, letting Danyal go in first.
Several square tables had been pushed together to create a long table. More people than he’d expected, coming to hear what he had to say.
He wasn’t sure if Teaser had sent a message ahead of their arrival or if their appearance was the signal, but people began entering the room. Yoshani was the first and stood on the other side of Danyal, providing introductions.
Nadia came in next. She was an attractive, middle-aged woman who, Yoshani explained, was a Fifth-Level Landscaper—which meant she had a significant connection to Ephemera, since there were only seven levels. With her was her husband, Jeb, who was a carpenter and woodworker. Right behind them were Caitlin Marie, a Landscaper-in-training who was Michael’s younger sister, and Lynnea, a young woman who worked at Philo’s and was Sebastian’s wife.
The simple garden, Danyal thought when he saw Lynnea. As bountiful as it was restful—but not without its prickles.
The door opened again, and Danyal tensed as the dark-haired man with the sharp green eyes walked in.
Heat lightning. Danger. And wizard, Danyal realized when he saw the way the man rubbed thumb and fingers together. The wizards at the bridge had done the same thing before the attack.
“Would you like something to drink, Sebastian?” Lynnea asked.
Those sharp eyes never left his when Sebastian shook his head. “Nothing just yet. You should get off your feet.”