The Temple of Forgotten Secrets (After The Rift Book 4)

by C. J. Archer

  Posey's face suddenly contorted in pain as a contraction wracked her body. She whimpered. It sounded far too weak.

  I knelt alongside Mistress Ashmole and inspected Posey. The baby was indeed breech. We had to move quickly. I hoped it wasn't too late.

  "How did you get out?" Mistress Ashmole asked, lips pinched.

  "The villagers and palace guards stormed the castle. Pass me the Mother's Milk. There's a jar in my bag."

  "So it worked," Riccard said. "I told as many as I could what they did and how Posey needed you. Seems everyone was as angry as me."

  "The Mother's Milk, Mistress Ashmole. Posey's in a lot of pain. She can't do what she needs to do if she's exhausted from the pain."

  Mistress Ashmole's nostrils flared. "If the goddess didn't want us to experience pain in childbirth, she would have made it so. If Posey would just calm down and try to breathe through it—"

  "Give me the Mother's Milk!"

  Quentin fetched it from my bag and measured out a small dose according to my instructions. Under Mistress Ashmole's stern glare, he spooned it into Posey's mouth.

  "The baby's going to come out bottom first," I told Posey once I gauged the Mother's Milk had taken affect. "You won't feel much pain, but you will need to stay awake to push. Do you understand?"

  She nodded.

  "Riccard, encourage her when I say so."

  A bottom first breech was safer than feet first, but still made for a difficult labor. As much as I wanted to talk to Mistress Ashmole about the dangers and the importance of a speedy delivery, I didn't want to worry Posey and Riccard. I would have to tell her later that there was a higher risk of the baby being born dead or simple.

  Despite her aversion to using Mother's Milk, Mistress Ashmole proved an able assistant. Her clinical, unemotional nature was an asset when the parents' emotions ran high. Riccard sat on one side of his wife and held her hand, while Quentin held her other. They both encouraged Posey to push when I instructed her to bear down.

  The baby was born as dusk settled outside the window. His angry cry was the most wonderful thing I'd heard all day. He had a bruised hip, as expected for breech births, but otherwise seemed healthy. While a smiling Riccard lay the baby on Posey's chest, I showed Mistress Ashmole how to cut the cord, deliver the afterbirth, and stitch the mother.

  Riccard paid me on the porch as we left. "Thanks, Josie. This doesn't seem like enough." He dropped the coins onto my palm.

  "I should I owe you," I said. "It seems you were responsible for sending the villagers to the castle in time."

  "I can't believe they arrested you for doctoring on the night of the fire. Do you know who the witness was who told the Deerhorns?"

  "I do," I said, very aware that the witness was standing right beside me.

  She cleared her throat and held out her palm. "My work is not free."

  "You're just learning," Riccard told her. "And you were no use until Josie showed you what to do."

  "Even so."

  He slammed the door, almost striking her fingers.

  Mistress Ashmole plucked the pouch off my hand. "Half of that is mine."

  Quentin drew his sword and pointed it at her chest. "Give it back to Josie."

  She swallowed and gave me the pouch. "The sooner you leave this village, the better." She gathered her shawl around her shoulders and strode off.

  Quentin sheathed his sword. "I feel sorry for the future babies of Mull, coming out and seeing that pinched face for the first time."

  "Thank you for standing up for me, but I would have given her half. An assistant deserves to be paid."

  "She deserves nothing from you except a slap across that sour, smug mouth."

  I was pleased to see that smoke no longer rose above the rooftops. Quentin agreed to journey closer to the village green but when we saw the crowd throwing bricks and other objects at the warrior priests from behind a makeshift barricade, we quickly diverted.

  He hailed one of the warrior priests riding past us into the fray. "Where are the palace guards?" Quentin asked.

  "Called back to the palace by the dukes. They're worried for their own safety."

  "Can the priests hold on here without help?"

  "Against untrained villagers armed with a few rocks?" The guard grinned. "It's going to be a dull evening. I'll try to stay awake."

  "They're arrogant," Quentin said as we rode off. "But I like them."

  "Thinking about becoming a warrior priest?"

  "Merdu, no. Not now."

  "What do you mean?"

  I may have been sitting on the saddle behind him, but I could see his entire neck flush. "Nothing," he muttered.

  Night fell quickly and I realized I was starving. Hopefully there would be something to eat at the cottage, or if not, Quentin could bring me food from the palace kitchens. I was about to ask him if there were any provisions prepared for my stay, when the thundering of hooves on the road behind had me swiveling in the saddle to see who approached.

  "Get down and hide behind those bushes," Quentin said. "Just in case."

  I crouched behind the low thicket that edged this part of the road. A group of riders approached rapidly, but it was too dark to see how many or who they were. In such low light, it was dangerous to move so quickly. The horses could step on a pebble, in a ditch, or on a fallen branch. Dane wouldn't let his men travel at that pace in the semi-dark unless it was urgent.

  The riders slowed as they drew closer to us. If we could have hidden the horse, I would have urged Quentin to hide behind the bush with me. My pulse quickened.

  Then it began to pound as the riders came into view. Four men sporting injuries rode at the head of the group, another four behind. In the center were Lord and Lady Deerhorn, Lord Xavier and his brother Lord Greville.

  It was Lord Xavier who stopped first. He drew his sword and pointed it at Quentin. Quentin rested his hand on the hilt of his sword but didn't draw.

  Merdu, no.

  "Not so brave now, are you?" Lord Xavier snarled.

  "Come." Lady Deerhorn glanced behind her. "We don't have time."

  "The villagers are on foot, Mother," Lord Greville said. "They can't catch us." He drew up alongside his brother. Is this one of them? He doesn't look too strong. I could've beaten him if I'd been there.

  "There will be other guards traveling this road," Lady Deerhorn snapped. "We must get to safety."

  "I don't like retreating," her husband grumbled.

  "Knowing when to retreat is just as important as knowing when to fight. Our home has been taken over, our possessions burned, our men killed or injured. Now is the time for retreat, Husband, unless you want to see your sons' heads on spikes before you lose your own."

  Lord Deerhorn shifted in the saddle. "We will continue on. Xavier, come."

  "After I deal with this turd," Lord Xavier sneered. "He's one of the ones from the balcony."

  "Where there's one, there's usually more not far away," Lady Deerhorn said.

  Her words gave me an idea. I scraped up a small stone with a fistful of dirt and tossed it onto the road behind them.

  Lord Deerhorn screwed up his eyes and tried to see through the murkiness. "I think someone's on the way. Come, Xavier, there's no time for that now." He ordered his men forward then rode off without waiting to see if his family followed.

  Lord Xavier was the last to leave. "Next time I see you, Turd, you're dead." He sheathed his sword and rode away.

  Quentin blew out a breath, but waited until the sound of hooves had disappeared in the distance before telling me to step out. "I hate him," he said, helping me up to the saddle. "I hate them all."

  "She's the dangerous one," I said. "She's smarter than all of them. Lord Deerhorn and his sons are ruled by baser instincts."

  "That makes them dangerous too, Josie. They're cruel. Lord Xavier reminds me of the prisoners in the palace cells. They like to see others suffer."

  We didn't head to the cottage immediately, but detoured via the palace t
o pack food from the kitchen. Quentin wouldn't let me leave the commons until he'd scouted the area for Deerhorns. It was lucky he did. When he returned, he reported that the Deerhorns had just been farewelled at the stables by the Duke of Gladstow and Lady Violette Morgrave.

  "Lady Morgrave was crying, so the stable boy told me," he said as he gathered up the pack of food. "She begged the duke to do something about the siege at her family's castle, but he said his hands were tied. Unless the Duke of Buxton agreed to send the palace guards, nothing could be done."

  "Buxton knows the Deerhorns are on Gladstow's side," I said. "He won't lift a finger to help them."

  "Lord Deerhorn proceeded to complain about having a realm where two dukes rule and not one king." Quentin glanced around the commons courtyard then lowered his voice. "According to the stable boy, Lady Deerhorn took her daughter off to the side. He swears he heard them say 'duchess' and 'out of the way' in the same breath."

  I felt sick. Kitty was in danger. It was precisely what we'd feared. "Promise me you'll keep an eye on the duchess, Quentin. A close eye."

  "The captain already has a man watching her at all times," he said. "Except when she's in her apartments. It's too hard for us to think of excuses to get in. Her ladies' maid's a real dragon."

  "Did the Deerhorns actually leave the estate?"

  He nodded. "I saw them ride off myself, but Lady Morgrave didn't go with them. They're heading to Tilting, so the stable hand says."

  "So I can return to the village."

  "I ain't going against Hammer's orders. You're staying in the cottage until he says so."

  "I will do as I please," I said, hand on hip. "And not what he tells me to do."

  He looked uncertain. "But if I don't do as he ordered, I'll get in trouble, not you." He pouted. "It ain't fair."

  I sighed. "Then I'll stay at the cottage until the riots end. I no longer have any patients in need of my midwifery services anyway. Please see that Meg and her family are informed so they don't worry."

  "I'll ask Max to do it." He grinned. "He'll be more welcome than me. Let's go to the garrison to see if there's any news."

  We entered the palace through the service door and followed the labyrinth of corridors to reach the garrison through its internal door. I counted some twelve guards lounging around the enormous table, plus Balthazar and Theodore, and several servants. One of them was Amar. All were questioning Balthazar and Amar about their encounters with the brothers in Merdu's Guards.

  "Did they tell you how you got the limp?" Zeke asked Amar.

  Amar rubbed his right leg. "I was part of a small group traveling from Fahl in Vytill when we were ambushed by bandits in the forest. My horse fell on me."

  "And you?" one of the footmen asked Balthazar. "Were you a warrior when you were younger too?"

  Yen snorted. "Are you blind?"

  "I was the archivist," Balthazar said. "I didn't train to be a guard."

  "But you're still a priest, right?" a maid asked.

  "Apparently."

  Erik entered from the adjoining dormitory, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. "Priests are strange," he announced. "They cannot sleep with women."

  "What about men?" asked Deanne from the menagerie.

  "That's illegal in Glancia," Theodore told her.

  "It is? What about women sleeping with women?"

  All eyes suddenly fell on me. "I suppose it is but no one has ever been arrested for it, as far as I know," I told them.

  "Seems you broke your vows, Amar," Ray said with a chuckle.

  Amar blushed. "I don't care. I'm not sure I want to go back to the temple anyway. I like it here."

  "And you, Balthazar?" Zeke asked. "Do you want to be a priest again?"

  "I want to find out more about my life," the Master of the Palace said. "I'll return to Tilting with Rhys and his men just as soon as the riots have ended. He's keen to get back to the city, so his men tell me."

  "You're leaving us?" the maid muttered. "What will we do without you?"

  "Go dancing in the ballroom," one of the footmen said with a wry grin. His joke fell flat. Everyone was staring at Balthazar. It seemed to be difficult for them to grasp that one of them was leaving.

  "You can come to Tilting too, if you like," Balthazar said. "There's nothing keeping you here except each other. It's possible more of us are from Tilting, not just Amar and me."

  "I don't think so," Theodore said. "We would have heard if a large number of people had gone missing from the capital. I can understand how we wouldn't have heard about two, but not a thousand."

  Theodore's words put a dampener on the gathering and a weighty silence fell. I suspected every man and woman in the room was thinking about whether to stay or leave. Some might return with Balthazar to Tilting in the hope of learning about themselves through him, but many would stay at the palace. The fear of being separated from the only people they could trust frightened them.

  Not even Balthazar could trust those he'd known before his memory loss. He'd left the temple without telling the brothers and, knowing Balthazar, his secrecy would have been for a good reason. He ought to be anxious about returning to Tilting with them, but he showed no sign of it. Perhaps he put on a brave face for the sake of his fellow servants. Or perhaps he expected Dane to keep him safe.

  But I doubted Dane would be able to stay with him in the temple. I certainly couldn't, as a woman.

  I eyed Theodore and Balthazar, wondering if I should tell them now about my plan to travel with them to Tilting, or if I should keep the news to myself until after I'd told Dane. I might need their support to sway Dane, but it was far from guaranteed. Indeed, I suspected they would align with Dane.

  In the end, a distraction solved my dilemma for me.

  Chapter 12

  The external door opened and a cloaked figure entered. His hood obscured his face but I knew it was one of the guards from his size.

  "Where've you been?" Max asked.

  The figure threw off his hood. Brant.

  Quentin moved closer to me, but Brant was not a threat with so many people crammed into the garrison. Besides, he still favored his arm, holding it to his chest.

  "Village," Brant said as he headed to the sideboard.

  "You're not supposed to leave the palace."

  Brant poured himself an ale then drank it all. "That order was for my own safety. If I want to take the risk, that's my problem. Besides, I wanted to see how things were." He poured another drink and saluted me with the cup. "I saw the captain, working alongside the priests. Why's he the only palace guard there?"

  "We were ordered to return, but he decided to stay."

  Brant didn't seem to be listening. He sported a smug look that settled on Balthazar. "I saw someone in the village," he said. "Someone who shouldn't be there."

  "Who?" Balthazar asked.

  "Lord Barborough. He was watching on."

  "Did he see you?"

  "Aye, and he chased me. He probably wanted to talk to me about the wishes."

  Balthazar and Theodore exchanged glances.

  "Don't worry," Brant said cheerfully. "I lost him in the graveyard."

  "Why did you go into the graveyard?" Zeke asked. "It's not on the palace road."

  "Seemed like a good place to lose him among the mess the rioters made in there."

  "What mess?" I asked carefully.

  His eyes flashed, as if he could sense distress and fed off it. "Some headstones were pushed over, branches pulled off trees, plants uprooted." He shrugged, as if it didn't matter.

  "What about the southern corner? You would have passed my parents' graves to get to the gate. There's a riverwart growing near the headstone. The captain planted it after my father died. It's distinctive with a bright yellow flower. Did you notice it? Are those headstones still upright?"

  Brant swirled the ale around his cup, taking his time to answer. I knew he was delaying simply to irk me and see my temper rise, so I bit my tongue to suppress my frus
tration.

  "That area wasn't touched," he finally said.

  Quentin took my hand and squeezed. "Don't worry. The riots will end soon, I reckon. Now that the Deerhorns are gone—"

  "Gone?" Theodore asked.

  Quentin nodded. "They fled, but not before making a stop here to speak to the Duke of Gladstow and Lady Morgrave."

  Murmurs of "Thank the goddess" and "Good riddance" rippled around the garrison. Ray patted me on the back and congratulated me for driving them out.

  "It wasn't me," I said. "It was all of you and the villagers. The Deerhorns are afraid for their lives."

  "Everyone rose up because of you," he said. "Because they hated how the Deerhorns manipulated the sheriff into arresting you."

  "They manipulated the governor into starting the fire too," I said. "Don't forget that. But I am relieved they're gone. They can't continue their corrupt rule over Mull anymore, nor can they harm anyone."

  "I wouldn't count on that," Brant said, making his way towards me. "They're powerful people, and they have Violette Morgrave in Gladstow's bed." He drank from his cup then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You should be worried. You and the duchess." He pushed the cup into my chest. "You both get in the way of their ambitions."

  Quentin snatched the cup away. Brant raised himself to his full height, towering over Quentin. I heard the smaller, younger guard swallow.

  "Stand down," Max growled. "And get out of here."

  Brant sniffed. "You're all pathetic." He stalked off in the direction of the internal door.

  "Wait," Balthazar said, rising. "You didn't seem surprised about the Deerhorns' sudden departure. Did you know they'd left? Did you see them go?"

  He must have. The timing fitted. Brant had returned to the palace not long after the Deerhorns departed. He could have watched them leave.

  "Go back to your temple, old man," Brant said. "And good riddance."

  I awoke the following day in the large bedchamber of the cottage. I'd slept with the window open to air out the stuffy room and the bird chatter in the surrounding forest had begun early. I boiled some eggs for breakfast and put some of the palace kitchen's herbs in a pot of water to steep. Then I washed all the dishes and cups I could find and dusted from top to bottom. The cottage was so small that it didn't take long, but I was glad to move into the garden. It was a fine early autumn day and the leaves hadn't yet started to change color. The cottage and garden would be pretty in its autumnal glory, but I might not get the opportunity to see it this year. The journey I was about to set off on with Dane could take a long time.