The Last Goddess

by C.E. Stalbaum

  Chapter Twenty

   

  Before moving to Darenthi three years ago, Rynne had a completely different notion of what a monastery was supposed to be. They were still centers of learning and study in Sunoa, but they also played host to grand festivals celebrating the glory of Shakissa and all Her gifts to the world. Shakissan monks were hardly the somber, tight-lipped men and women she’d found in monasteries and temples throughout the Republic; they were joyous, bright-spirited people as willing to share in an academic debate as to kiss you.

  The Kirshane might have been based in Ebara, but their traditions were much closer to Darenthi than Sunoan. Rynne had expected as much given what she’d learned about Tiel and his upbringing here, but she still found the differences striking…and a little depressing. It actually made her a bit homesick, of all things.

  Everything in Jehalai was decorated functionally rather than festively, and there seemed to be an unspoken rule that no one could wear a color other than red or gray. When Rynne finished with her bath, she immediately set to correcting that, throwing on the layered green dress she had packed for the trip—just in case. She even shaved and dabbed on a trace of makeup, mostly to see what their reactions would be. If their tongues weren’t loosened after dinner, she figured she could maybe hit them with a song or two as a final touch.

  About an hour after Bale had left she and the others on their own, a monk stopped by and escorted them to the mess hall for dinner. To her great and very pleasant surprise, the food was more than a pot of tasteless gruel. The monks had a wide variety of freshly grown fruits and vegetables to compliment the roast mutton, and it was a welcome change from trail rations and salted meat.

  “I still can’t believe you packed that,” Van said under his breath as they sat down at one of the tables.

  “What, this old thing? I’ve had it tucked away in my wardrobe for months.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You bought that a few days before we left. I remember you complaining about how much it cost.”

  “So you do listen to me when I talk to you.”

  “Believe me,” he muttered, “sometimes I wish I didn’t.”

  “I haven’t seen Tiel or Bale,” Rook commented, ignoring their banter with practiced ease. He had cleaned up pretty well himself, though exchanging one rugged brown leather jacket for another wasn’t a particularly dramatic transformation. “Just be polite if anyone comes to talk to us.”

  “I don’t think that will be much of a problem,” Selaste said, tossing a glance over her shoulder as she sat down with a plate of food. “They seem to be doing their best to pretend we aren’t here.”

  Van shrugged. “Fine with me. Talking just slows me down.”

  Rynne tried valiantly to keep her mouth from gaping open when he subsequently shredded a shank of mutton with his teeth. She failed.

  “The Kelpek barbarians have better manners,” she said breathlessly, “and they eat their own dead!”

  “More incentive to leave us alone,” he mumbled. “If you want to go chat, it looks like they have plenty of open seats.”

  She sighed and did her best to regain her appetite. The others managed to temper their hunger and eat like civilized people, at least, though Rook appeared more interested in sizing up the other monks than his food. A few of them stopped by to exchange simple pleasantries, but none stayed to chat. Rynne decided a song was probably a silly idea after all, and she suddenly felt a little foolish even putting on the dress. It was quite different than the pageantry-filled welcome she had envisioned a few days ago, but then, apparently they weren’t arriving with the Messiah in tow after all.

  Once they finished eating, the four of them made their way back to their quarters, and Van immediately flopped down onto his bed.

  “Padding,” the big man murmured, “glorious, comfortable padding.”

  “City life has made you soft,” Rook scoffed from the hallway. “There was a time when you used to prefer sleeping in a tent.”

  “I was young and foolish, what can I say?”

  “Plus you probably weren’t stuffed with mutton,” Rynne chided. “I hope they’re not keeping a tab, because I’m pretty sure you ate enough for three people.”

  “And it was delicious.”

  She rolled her eyes again and turned back to Rook. “It’s still early. You’re not turning in, are you?”

  “I figured I’d wait and see if Bale checks in on us,” he said. “I wanted to snoop around a little, but honestly I’m exhausted. I’d rather approach this with a rested mind.”

  “Well, I’m going to go find Tiel and see if he’s all right.”

  Van leaned up, his face suddenly serious. “I should go with you. Just in case.”

  “I’ll be fine. Just lay there and digest or something.”

  “He’s right,” Rook told her. “It’s probably best for none of us to go anywhere alone.”

  “I’ll go with you, if you want,” Selaste suggested. “I’m not tired.”

  “Seriously, I’ll be fine. I’m not exactly an amateur. Besides, I don’t want Tiel to get intimidated. He’s more likely to talk if it is just me.”

  Van sighed. “Just remember these people have been brainwashing him for a long time. I’d like to trust him too, but you never know.”

  Rynne smiled and walked over to him. He might have been a grumpy oaf most of the time, but he meant well. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to her or Rook. Right now, though, the worry was misplaced. Even if the Kirshane weren’t on the level, she wasn’t worried about them openly attacking her or anything.

  She kissed him on the forehead. “Get some sleep. All of you.”

  She turned and slipped away without waiting for a reply. She figured she would have to end up asking one of the Kirshane for directions, but a few moments later she caught a glimpse of Tiel walking alone to the other side of the monastery. His eyes were distant and his shoulders slouched; he looked utterly deflated. She wondered what the old man could have told them that had made things even worse.

  “Hey, you missed dinner,” she said, stepping up behind him.

  He looked back at her and froze awkwardly, as if it took his mind a second to catch up. “Oh, yeah. It’s okay, I’m not really hungry.”

  “You look terrible. You all right?”

  “I’m…well enough. Have you found everything you need? I completely forgot to check in.”

  “I’m sure you have a lot on your mind,” she said. “You didn’t even compliment me on my outfit.”

  Tiel blinked before eyeing her up and down. “I, uh…it’s very elegant.”

   “I know. It’s a pity no one else here seemed to notice.”

  He smiled sheepishly, and the shroud of disillusionment around him seemed to fade just a little. “I’m a little surprised. They’re not used to visitors.”

  “I thought about performing a song or two, but they didn’t seem in the mood. How about you?”

  He shuffled awkwardly. “I’m…actually quite tired.”

  “Nonsense. I promised you tickets when we were back in Haven. You got us here safely—I figure that’s worth at least one song. Do you still have quarters here?”

  “I do,” he said softly. “Mostly empty, though.”

  “If there’s room to sit, that’s all that matters,” she told him, wrapping her arm in his. “Lead on.”

  It took him a moment before he finally nodded and escorted her to the other side of the monastery. They passed a large training area where a handful of monks were finishing up a sparring regimen and packing up for the night. The physical training was something they shared with their Sunoan kin, at least. A minute later the two of them reached his private quarters. They weren’t any more impressive than the small guest rooms on the other side.

  “Like I said,” he murmured, “they’re basically empty. Not that I own much anyway, but what I do have is back in Haven.”

  Her eyes fastened on the lute propped up in the corner.
“You never said you played.”

  “I don’t, really,” Tiel admitted. “I tried at one point, but it just never felt natural to me. It was one of the reasons I liked your music, actually.”

  Rynne picked it up. It was in excellent condition, and she strummed it experimentally to see if it was still tuned. “Not bad. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. I’m sure it will appreciate making pleasant sounds for a change.”

  She sat down on the edge of the bed and plucked it idly for a few moments before remembering why she was actually here. “I’m sorry, by the way.”

  “For what?” he asked, leaning against the wall.

  “I know this wasn’t what you expected for a homecoming.”

  His face darkened and he folded his arms across his chest. “No. It makes me feel like an idiot.”

  “You were lied to,” she said. “If I were in your shoes, I’d be livid. How long ago did he recruit you?”

  “A little over four years,” Tiel replied softly. “I was sixteen and serving as an acolyte at the Kirshane temple in Narask on the eastern coast of Vakar. You remember I said that most of the priests had been losing interest? Well, I guess now I know why. The Kirshal was already dead by then.”

  Rynne shuffled and crossed her legs. “Do you believe him?”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you believe his story about the Kirshal? That he found her in a ruin during the war, that she was killed by bandits…”

  Tiel sighed and glanced away. “He has no reason to lie.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “I…” he trailed off and took a deep breath. “I thought I was serving a proud and respected order, and I thought I was bringing the Messiah back to them.” He swallowed heavily and his eyes flicked back up to her. “It turns out the order is all but dead, and the Messiah is an imposter. So no, I’m not sure about much of anything right now.”

  “Rook isn’t convinced about any of it,” Rynne said. “There are too many holes. Why would he go to the trouble of recruiting Edehan priests when the Kirshane’s mission is essentially over? And if he knew Selaste was really an imposter, why would he take the risk of bringing her here?”

  “He still believes the order has a purpose as historians and teachers. And as for her, he said he wanted to know who was behind it.”

  In the week she had known him, Tiel had displayed a wide variety of skills. He was a talented krata, a skilled fighter, and he had the taut, muscular body befitting the hero in a saucy Sunoan ballad. He was also an earnest man, which meant when he did try to hide something it was all the more obvious—and he was definitely hiding something now.

  “I’m sure he does,” she said softly. “But he knows more about Selaste than he’s letting on. If all he wanted to figure out was the puppeteer behind this charade, then he could have had you confront her in Haven or somewhere else. Instead he took the risk of having you march her across the Wall to here. That doesn’t add up.”

  Tiel glanced away. “I guess not. I don’t know.”

  “He didn’t tell you anything?”

  He closed his eyes, and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “He told me…some things. I’m not sure if I believe them or not.”

  Rynne stayed silent, watching him carefully until his eyes finally opened again and met hers. “You don’t trust me, do you?”

  “I…” he swallowed heavily. “I don’t know.”

  “Sounds like a no to me,” she muttered. For some reason it hurt to hear him say that, much more than she would have expected. She liked him, certainly—he was fun to tease and easy to look at. She had even felt compelled to impress him a little during the trip, as silly as that was. But she barely knew him at all; they had only spent a week together, and much of that had been on the road.

  There was an old Sunoan saying that intensity was more valuable than time, and the last week had certainly been intense. She felt like she knew him pretty well. And she thought, perhaps foolishly, that he had come to trust her, too.

  Tiel glanced out into the hallway. “I want to. I just know what you do for a living. I know how you lied to me when we first met. You all seem like decent people, but…”

  “Bale just took four years of your life with a lie,” she reminded him. “We took a huge risk by helping you get here, and I’ve been honest with you from the moment I took you in to see Rook.”

  He nodded faintly. “I suppose so.”

  Rynne set down the lute and hopped off the bed. She slid over and stood directly in front of him, putting a hand on his cheek and tilting his head to face her. “Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

  His blue eyes were particularly bright from in this close, and they seemed to flash as he fought an internal battle against himself. “This just…it isn’t what I expected. The Kirshal, Jehalai…you.”

  “Me?”

  He nodded. “I never thought I’d actually meet Vorani, let alone be this close to her. I guess there’s only one thing that actually turned out like I thought.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  It was, Rynne decided, the perfect mix between corny sentiment and earnest affection. She was used to the meaningless flattery of drunken fans, but he actually meant it. She felt her cheeks warm and her toes curl inside her shoes.

  “I can’t believe I made you blush.”

  She grinned coyly. “Proud of yourself, huh?”

  “A little,” he admitted.

  “Well, don’t be. I think a real man would have kissed me by now.”

  Tiel stuttered. “Uh…”

  “See, embarrassing someone is easy,” she said tartly, squeezing his cheek and drawing him closer. “Now are you going to do it or do I have to?”

  It took him a moment, but he swallowed heavily and then brought his lips to hers. Rynne wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him in close. He moved with the aimless vigor of a man with zero experience but plenty of desire. And she wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  After a few minutes, he gently pushed her away and smiled down at her. “I…”

  “Talking just ruins it,” she said, leaning in to him again…

  He abruptly straightened and held her in place, his brow furrowing. She was just about to ask why when she heard it too—the soft footsteps of someone sneaking towards them. He gently pushed her back and held up a hand as he crept up to lean around the doorframe.

  “Tiel,” a male voice said from the hall. A few seconds later a pair of monks appeared in the doorway. “I thought Master Bale instructed you to remain in your quarters. Alone.”

  “What are you doing here?” Tiel asked.

  “Checking in on you. The Master was worried you might have been…distressed.”

  “We’re fine, thanks,” Rynne told him. “Now if you don’t mind…?”

  Both men eyed her with obvious contempt. “Perhaps you need to be reminded of your vows, brother. You haven’t been gone that long.”

  “Vows?” Rynne asked, then abruptly groaned when it hit her. “Gods, no wonder you people look so unhappy.”

  The lead monk’s face twitched. “And to a Sunoan harlot, no less.”

  Tiel visibly tensed and started to move forward, but Rynne just laughed. “Harlot? That’s the best you can come up with? You really are sheltered, aren’t you?”

  “It’s time for you to leave, Miss Vorani,” the man said flatly. “Brother Tiel needs some time alone.”

  “I’m comfortable right here, thanks.”

  Tiel shuffled to the side, placing himself between them and her. “She is my guest. Now I’m asking you to leave.”

  The other monk shook his head. “He warned us that you may have been corrupted by the Defiler. I had hoped it wasn’t true, but…”

  “Defiler?” Rynne asked. “What in the void are you talking about?”

  The man snorted. “She has no idea, does she? So you’ve at least kept your mo
uth shut.”

  “I asked you to leave once,” Tiel said. “I won’t do so again.”

  The men glared at each other for a long moment before the lead monk finally shrugged. He dropped his guard and started to turn, and Rynne felt herself relax—and then suddenly he was twirling about, fist clenched as he attacked. Rynne was caught completely off-guard.

  Tiel wasn’t.

  He caught the man’s fist and wrenched it aside, then drove an elbow into his jaw and hurled him across the room. His partner’s fist flashed outward only a fraction of a second later, but Tiel was ready. He deflected the first strike, and in a series of frantic, blurred movements, he soon had the other man flipped face down on the floor, unconscious.

  The first monk groaned and started to pull himself up, but Rynne shook out of her momentary shock and quickly placed her foot on his back. “I wouldn’t,” she warned. “These are Sunoan shoes, you know, and that means these heels can do a lot of damage. Trust me.”

  “We have to find Master Bale,” Tiel said. He quite literally hadn’t broken a sweat, and he wasn’t even breathing hard. But his eyes were narrowed, and every muscle in his body seemed coiled and ready to strike.

  “So the Defiler has gotten to you, too,” the man on the floor snarled, spitting the blood from his mouth. “I always thought you were stronger than that, Tiel.”

  “Well, he’s obviously a lot stronger than you,” Rynne pointed out. “Now do yourself a favor and shut up.”

  Tiel leaned over the man. “We can’t leave him conscious.” He immediately drove an open-faced palm into the back of the monk’s head. His body went limp.  

  “Gods,” Rynne breathed. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”

  “No. Some basic healing magic and he’ll be fine. They both will.” He stood and grabbed her arm. “Come on, we have to find the others. They may be in danger.”

  “Right,” she said, shaking her head again at the display. She had seen him in action personally, and she probably shouldn’t have been surprised at his skill. Nevertheless, she was suddenly reminded that this earnest young man was as deadly a weapon as any blade.

  And she was happier than ever that they were on the same side.