***
Tiel shook the pan full of spiced potatoes and tossed in a few more bits of dried onion. The smell was overpowering, and he found it a little embarrassing that his mouth was watering so much. He hadn’t eaten for almost a day at this point, and he hadn’t touched anything with more flavor than kaffel in weeks. Master Bale had left him only a scant amount of drakes, and business hadn’t exactly been booming. With so many major temples, libraries, and the university already in town, there wasn’t much of a demand for an independent historian. He didn’t understand why Bale had kept the shop going for as long as he had.
He sighed and glanced over to the much larger man looming in the corner of the room nibbling on pieces of dried meat. They had been left on their own in the kitchen; the innkeeper seemed to answer directly to Rook, and he had apparently been instructed to keep his distance.
“I have a question for you, if you don’t mind.”
Van raised an eyebrow as he worked over a particularly tough piece. “I might. No way to know until you ask.”
“What is it about Her Eminence that bothers you so much?”
Van snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “You mean other than the fact people just tried to kill us to get to her?”
“That’s hardly her fault,” Tiel pointed out. “And she did save our lives.”
Van shrugged. “Why are you asking?”
Tiel turned back to the pan and shook it again. “I’ve always wondered how men can get by without faith.”
“I have plenty of faith. Just probably not in things or people you care about.”
“You are Ebaran, yes? You don’t believe in the gods.”
Van sighed softly. “Pretty big generalization, kid. Aren’t Vakari all supposed to be big, Zandrast-worshipping savages? And yet here you are, a lowly monk without a single weapon.”
It was a fair enough point, Tiel had to admit, if not a particularly eloquent one. Master Bale had always warned him about the dangers of categorizing people. Ebarans could be just as spiritual as anyone else, and Sunoans could be prudish ascetics. Still…
”But you don’t believe, do you?” he pressed.
“Let’s just say I need a little more proof than the words of a priest or some scribbles in an old book.”
“Perhaps that is why you resent her so much. She offers proof to what you’ve convinced yourself never existed.”
Van let out a half-snort, half-chuckle. “First, I don’t resent her. I don’t know a damn thing about her other than the fact she was crammed in a coffin and claims not to remember anything. Second, her presence doesn’t ‘prove’ anything. She doesn’t even believe she’s your Kirshal.”
“You saw her power,” Tiel said. “You saw what she could do to the Faceless. No magic can touch them, and yet—”
“Look, kid,” Van cut in, leaning up from the wall, “you’re not going to convert me while we cook breakfast. Just do both of us a favor and save your breath.”
Tiel bit at his lip. “You realize you aren’t much older than I am.”
The other man smirked. “What are you, twenty?”
“Twenty-two,” he countered. “Almost.”
“And how many wars have you fought in?”
Tiel frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’ll find out eventually,” Van murmured. “And by the way, I think those are done.”
The monk turned back to the potatoes and took them off the stove. When he glanced back over his shoulder, the other man was already stepping out of the room. Tiel grunted and tended to the other pans. Arguing with an Ebaran about religion was like arguing with a Vakari berserker about social graces. It wasn’t worth the time, especially considering Van was a mere bodyguard. Still, Tiel found it odd that a seemingly reasonable man like Rook would keep such a dour servant around.
Shrugging away the thought, Tiel quickly finished cooking the rest of the meal. He added the eggs and sausage to the large tray before hauling it out into the modest dining area. Rook and Van stepped into the room the moment he set it all down.
“Smells good,” Rook commented. “Hopefully the girls get here before it goes cold.”
Van snorted as he took a seat. “You sent Rynne clothes shopping. You really think she’ll be back before noon?”
Rook smiled. “Actually, I just saw her come inside a minute ago. Record timing, I think.” He glanced at Tiel. “I had a question for you before they get back. Where is this Jehalai of yours, exactly?”
“I hope you realize I can’t tell you that,” Tiel said. “Its location is kept hidden for a very good reason.”
“Approximately, then. You said it was south across the border.”
“Inside the Highland Forest. With mounts and a guide, it’s five days away, give or take.”
Rook nodded idly and sat down at the other end of the table. “And what do the Kirshane do there?”
Tiel cocked his head. “That’s an odd question, Mr. Rook. We’re monks. We pray, meditate, and train.”
“Sounds like a real party,” Van murmured. “I bet Rynne will love it.”
“And Master Bale is there preparing for your arrival?” Rook asked.
“That’s right,” Tiel said. “I told you there are certain rituals that must be performed.”
“You think they might be able to restore her memory?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, honestly. I hope so. I plan to study the Osahn Scriptures when I have more time, but as you’re no doubt aware, I had no idea she would be so…drained.”
Before Rook could respond, the door at the top of the stairs opened and Rynne walked down, followed closely by the Kirshal. The latter had forgone her ceremonial gown for much simpler attire, and Tiel had to admit he wasn’t sure what to think of that. Something about seeing the Messiah in a shirt and pants…should he have been offended? Did it really make any difference?
“About time,” Van said, leaning forward and sweeping some food onto his plate.
“Guests first,” Rook chided, waging a finger. “We’re not barbarians, you know.”
“It’s all right,” Selaste told them as she looked the table over. “I don’t really feel like eating.”
Rook eyed her coolly. “Your decision, of course, but it might be worth having a few bites, at least.”
She seemed to gather herself before nodding and taking a seat. “Thank you.”
Tiel watched as she scooped a few pieces of food onto her plate and couldn’t help but feel something in his stomach twist. The Kirshal—the Prophet of Edeh—was sitting directly across from him eating breakfast. It was so mundane he couldn’t help but think it was…wrong. Was this how it was really supposed to be? Sitting across from a table with a divine being, watching as she gingerly chewed upon a chunk of potato? Shouldn’t she be doing something else? Shouldn’t she be creating miracles, like standing amidst the poor in the city and healing them with her touch, or perhaps wiping away all the despair and darkness around them with a wave of her hand?
But no, instead she was almost frantically scooping more food onto her plate and chomping it down like a starving vretarg. It was…paralyzing.
“Hey,” Rynne said, grabbing onto his arm as she sat down next to him. “Didn’t your mother teach you it’s impolite to stare?”
“What? Oh, uh…”
Selaste glanced up to him, her cheeks flushing. “I guess I’m hungrier than I thought.”
“Eat as much as you want and don’t let Van stop you,” Rynne told her. “Besides, we can always make more.”
“Indeed,” Rook said, taking a small bite for himself. “I know I said earlier I think we should take this as slowly as we can, but unfortunately there are some decisions that need to be made sooner rather than later.”
Selaste nodded and set down her fork. “I’m endangering all of you by being here.”
“That’s…partially true,” Rook replied. “But I wasn’t meaning to suggest—”
“You don’t have to coddle me,” she interrupted. “I may not remember much, but I know I hate being patronized. You were forced out of your home because someone thinks I’m something I’m not, and they’ll try again.”
He nodded. “That’s the short version. The long version is a bit more complicated. Right now I think the only person who knows about you is the one who paid for the scavengers to find you in the first place: Prince Kastrius.”
She frowned, her eyes looking down as if the name sounded familiar. “Who is he?”
Rook studied her carefully. Obviously he had noticed the shift in body language too, but that was hardly surprising; if Tiel had noticed it, everyone should have. But it did raise an interesting question: why would the prince’s name be familiar to the Kirshal? She would have been imprisoned a thousand years before he was even born…
“The Empress’s second child and a genuinely bad guy all around,” Rook said after a moment. “I’ll spare you the lecture on local politics, but suffice to say he’s looking for a shortcut to the throne. He’s been trying to track Septurian relics for years, and he apparently finally got lucky and found you. The salvagers sold you to me instead because they figured I would pay more.”
“I’m sure that made the prince livid.”
Rynne snorted. “Probably an understatement. There are a lot of wicked rumors floating around about him. If even a fraction of them are true, he’s as crazy as he is ruthless.”
“In any event, he’s the one who came after us,” Rook continued. “He doesn’t have the resources in the city you might expect from royalty, however, since his mother keeps him on a tight leash. But that’s where we stand.” He leaned back in his chair and brought a hand to his beard. “We have a few options. One is to stay here and bunker in while we try to get more information about your condition. With luck, maybe I can find someone who could restore your memory.”
“I presume the other is to travel to this Jehalai,” Selaste reasoned.
“That’s pretty much it, yeah.”
She leaned down on her elbow. “And what if I just want to leave on my own?”
“That…would not be a good idea, Your Eminence,” Tiel said softly. “I swear to you, we will do everything we can to assist you once we rendezvous with the others.”
“I wasn’t asking you,” she said without turning her eyes from Rook.
Rook sighed. “I agree it’s not the best solution, but ultimately that’s your decision to make. I figure if you owe me anything at all, you made up for it by saving our lives earlier. If you want to leave, then I won’t stop you.”
Selaste held her eyes on his for a long moment before finally turning away. “I’ll tell you right now my first instinct is to fight. I want to find this Kastrius person and make him tell me what’s going on.” She grabbed her fork and took another bite. “But I know how stupid that sounds. I’m in no shape to do much of anything. I just can’t figure out why any of you want to help me.”
“It’s a good question,” Van murmured. “No offense, but we don’t know you any better than you know us. I don’t think you’re the Messiah, either.”
“His manners at the table are just terrible all around,” Rynne said, tossing the man a sharp glare. “You’ll just have to ignore him.”
Selaste shook her head. “Why? He’s just being honest. And he makes sense.”
He grunted. “Glad someone thinks so.”
“The bottom line is I put you into this situation, and that makes you my responsibility,” Rook told her. “I don’t abandon my people, and I live up to my bargains.”
“Well, I’m just a good person,” Rynne said matter-of-factly. “You two can rationalize it however you want, but it’s the right thing to do. Either you’re my Messiah and I’ll end up kneeling before you at some point, or you’re the victim of an elaborate hoax and I feel pity for you. Either way, you sound like a great friend to have.”
Selaste glanced between them a few times before finally lowering her eyes and nodding. “I want answers. It sounds like the best place to get them is at Jehalai.”
Tiel let out a deep breath, and the tension that had been knotting in his stomach suddenly disappeared. For a minute there he thought she might be serious about going out on her own. He couldn’t even conceive of what he would have done. And really, if she had wanted to stay with Rook it wouldn’t have been much better.
“Tiel said it will take almost a week to get there,” Rook said. “I can get us mounts and supplies easily enough. It’s probably best if we head out today. The less time we give the prince, the better.”
Selaste nodded slowly. “All right. What do you need me to do?”
“Just finish eating. I’ll handle the details.” He started to stand but stopped himself halfway. “This is an odd question, but do you know how to ride?”
“I’m…not sure,” she admitted. “I think so.”
“Easy enough to test,” Rynne said.
Rook nodded and glanced to Van. “When you’re finished, start gathering supplies. I’ll tell Foren he’s in charge until I get back.”
The bodyguard’s arms were still folded across his chest. “I assume it’s pointless for me to protest.”
“We’ll talk about it later,” Rook assured him. “For now, let’s get moving. It will take a few hours to get everything situated, but I’d like to be out of here by noon at the latest. We need time to get clear of the city before setting up camp tonight.”
Selaste turned towards Tiel. “I want to see these scriptures you have been talking about. Maybe I’ll remember something.”
“Of course. Absolutely.”
Rynne touched his arm. “Just make sure you get whatever you need from your house first.”
“Right, right. Thank you.”
She smiled and patted him once before taking off. Within moments the table was clear and they all sprang into action. All things considered, it was more than he could have realistically hoped for. The Kirshal would come along willingly, and he would even have an escort for the journey. Master Bale might even applaud his efforts.
But for some reason it didn’t feel like a victory—perhaps because the more he looked at the person across from him, the more he saw a lost and scared young woman rather than a Messiah. The knots in his stomach returned just thinking about it. A Kirshane monk shouldn’t be burdened by such doubts. Everything was in place for her return, and yet…
And yet even the smallest crack in that veneer was obvious to him now. Every flaw was like a beacon warning him not to believe—both for his sake, and that of his order. He didn’t think they could endure yet another disappointment.
Clutching the Osahn Scriptures tightly to his chest, Tiel quickly set off to the house to get the remainder of his things.
The Last Goddess Page 22