Ashwalk Pilgrim

by AB Bradley

  Heat rose in Mara’s cheeks. She balanced on the roof, looking down at the man who should have been her savior. “Why even come to Hightable then? The Serpent Sun will know I’m here soon enough, and they’ll be looking in the shadows where you’ll be hiding. You think you’re safe? Your power wanes, priest. Yet, I am an ashwalk pilgrim, and somehow I have been blessed enough to avoid them.”

  “Hey, I’m only here to pick up a few gold coins and hopefully a gem or two from a drunk noble. As soon as I have enough to make my way north, I’ll be back in Skaard, reminding rich and poor alike sin casts a long shadow and none are safe from the Sinner’s touch.”

  “You coward.”

  “I prefer battle savvy. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

  “Fine. Leave. Thank you for your help, brave priest of the Slippery Sinner. I pray he doesn’t judge you when you face him. Cowardice is a sin when it’s shown to an innocent in need.”

  “Ah, but the Sinner never judges. He knows how weakly a human’s heart beats when faced with the trials of this world. Isn’t that a happy dogma?”

  Mara turned her back to Sander. Her lips contorted in a frustrated line. No one in that cursed city would help her. She looked down at her son and forced a smile, pecking his soft brow. “We’ve made it this far, my love. We can make it to the temples, you and I.”

  Sander’s shadow slipped over her shoulder. “The temples will be crawling with soldiers, and I’ll bet every coin I steal tonight you’ll find those wicked serpents slithering all over them, too. Ialane and Caspran are the most powerful, but there are many more serpents like them in Sollan.”

  “I will make it to the Mother’s steps.” She rocked her son as if he might simply be sleep tucked as he was in her arms. “I have only known one life, one place, and yet I know when I look upon his face, no soldiers, no serpent priests, no king, and no heretic god will keep me from the temple. Olessa tells me the Six used a piece of themselves to make the first men, and that a little of the gods burns in all of us. I believe her. I really do. I know them. I feel them, and they will light the way.”

  A long silence settled over them. A heavy tear slipped from her eye and rolled down her cheek. It fell from her jaw and splashed on her son’s brow. “I have to believe her. If I don’t have the Six, then I have nothing else but a dead child in my arms and a bounty on my head.”

  Sander’s hand gently rested on her shoulder. “Mara, you have no weapon.” His voice slipped into a sad and silken whisper. “You’re covered in blood and filth and cloaked with burlap. You literally have no defense against the snakes. Those priests are powerful, and they say the king even has a great serpent of his own, a monster brought to life not seen since the old ages of Urum.”

  “I don’t care. My son will rest in the Burning Mother’s arms tonight. I swear on the Six and every other god that might be hiding in the stars, he will see her face in the Ever-Burning Flame, and he will dine with those at the long table who died for him on Harvest Festival.”

  “Oddly enough, I believe you.” His hand left her shoulder and pinched her son’s burlap hood, pulling it from the infant’s face. “He would have been a handsome man.”

  “Yes, yes he would have.”

  She heard Sander’s exasperated sigh quickly roll into a low groan. “You kill me. You really kill me. Sinner save me from this poor woman because she’s got me in her grasp. It’s the fucking bloody burlap. It’ll get you every time.”

  Mara glanced over her shoulder. Sander reached into his collar and produced a small orb fastened to a silver chain. He yanked the chain from his neck and held the orb before Mara.

  Within the round crystal, an odd bluish glow pulsed like a fairy’s heart, surrounded by tiny pinpricks of light swirling around the crystal’s center. He held it closer to her. “Go ahead, take it.”

  “It’s magic?”

  “Yes, it is. An artifact hard to come by and now probably impossible to make. I suppose it’s fitting a woman worth a kingly ransom carries a priceless treasure. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Gingerly, Mara took his gift. She fastened the chain around her neck and tucked the orb between her breasts. She expected to shiver from the cool glass, but when it touched her skin, warmth washed through her chest. “What does it do?”

  “When you find yourself in that shit storm I mentioned, break it, and it will summon me to you. Sinner save us both from drowning in the sewage.”

  Her heart dropped and so did her chin. “Then you really won’t take me to the temple?”

  He clasped her chin and lifted it up. “I would that I could, but Sollan’s not safe for either of us any longer. I need to gather coin for the journey to Skaard, and now I think I’ll need to gather twice as much if I’ll have a moon maiden as my companion.”

  Her eyes lit up as her mouth formed an o of surprise. “Take me across the sea? I’ve never been to Skaard. What about the House of Sin and Silk, and Olessa and—and Gia? What about Gia?”

  “Mara, the serpents will discover where you come from. That place is not safe for you. You can’t go home, but maybe you can go on. This damned conscience of mine won’t let me live with myself knowing I didn’t do what I could to save you.”

  “I’ve never been across the sea. I don’t know what Skaard is like.”

  “You’ll wear furs instead of silks because it’s colder than an ice titan’s balls, but you’ll have a life. I don’t think I need to tell you that your life under Good King Sol’s rule will be measured by hours and not years if you stay.”

  “I…I don’t know…” Mara closed her eyes. “Gia, what should I do? Would you leave for Skaard, or would you return for me?”

  “Gia would leave,” Sander whispered. “I can tell you that much. I have to go now, Mara, but I will return to you before sunrise. Break the orb before then if you feel your life’s in danger.”

  Mara nodded, her eyes still shut tight. “Thank you, Sander Hale. I’m glad you had a change of heart, although I do not know what made it beat again.”

  Sander chuckled. “Because, Mara, every son had a mother once.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A Weary Woman

  An ivy arch greeted Mara at the entrance to the garden labyrinth. She stood at the base of the tall estate, its shadow keeping her comfortably cloaked in darkness. She would need to traverse the verdant, blossom-speckled maze to get anywhere near the temples, but peering into the labyrinth’s deathly quiet entrance sent a shudder down her spine. Something about the dark leaves, the pale grass, the flower petals hanging lazily from the ivy like snakes’ hungry tongues—they were all mired in tranquil neglect. The confined air of Hightable let them grow, but their imprisonment suffocated their spirits.

  She stepped into the maze and slowly traipsed through its sharp turns and shadowy lanes. Mara closed her eyes and imagined Gia walking with her.

  “This is an odd place, Gia.”

  “This is how the others live. These are the ones who own the world and all the beautiful things within it.”

  Mara squeezed Gia’s hand. “They don’t own you.”

  “No,” Gia said with a laugh. “Our madame is the one with that claim.”

  “Are you okay?” Mara asked, opening her eyes. “I worry about you. I fear the worst for you and Faratta. I’m even afraid for Olessa. Good King Sol and his serpents wish to raise a sun by snuffing ours, I fear. They are wicked. They kill and take joy in it like they are patrons of a deathly maiden. I don’t know how I could live with myself, knowing they hurt you because of me.”

  They turned a corner in the labyrinth to face yet another long wall of ivy peppered with silky, sickly-sweet blossoms. “You must stop blaming yourself for the pain of others,” Gia said. “You did nothing. You caused nothing. The serpents, the king, they are the ones to blame for this dark night. Never forget that, Mara. You are good in all of this, no matter what happens. The Six favor you. They always have. I’ve seen it for myself many times. So did Olessa, that is why she kept you
safe. That is why she kept her promise to her brother. There is something about you the Six want, something they need, and King Sol knows and fears this.”

  “But I have nothing, Gia. I don’t even have my collar anymore. A boy stole it to feed himself for a few days.”

  “Mara, Mara, it’s not about what you own. It’s about what you offer. Remember that when you stare into the Mother’s flames.”

  Mara paused, her brows knitting together. “What I offer?”

  She looked beside her, but her eyes met only a wall of ivy. Of course Gia had never been walking with her. Olessa’s glimmer faded, and with its last bit of strength, it would trick her with illusions.

  If Gia still lived, she was serving patrons, most of whom would be so drunk by then they could hardly stand. An image of Gia reclining in a corner, cleaning her nails while a patron emptied out his stomach in a chamber pot flashed through her mind. Mara grinned and stifled a snicker with her hand.

  With her child cradled in her arm, she struck deeper into the maze. Her feet padded softly on the grass. Her free hand toyed with the ivy as she passed, and the leaves responded by tickling her palm.

  Mara rounded a corner and came to a small square courtyard in the labyrinth with a marble fountain in its center. The fountain’s glassy waters reminded Mara of her dry, burning throat. She licked lips plastered with dried skin and approached the fount. Resting against its smooth marble side, she massaged her ankles and exhaled as the soreness ebbed from her feet.

  “I could almost sleep here for the night.”

  Mara dipped her hand into the waters. She tried not to grimace at her horrible reflection. The face peeking from the burlap hood turned her stomach. “Olessa would say I look like a rat that’s somehow survived a swim with the sharks.”

  She dipped her face and scooped water into her mouth. The crisp liquid flowed down her throat and collected in a satisfying pool deep in her belly. She smiled and took another drink, water dripping from her knuckles.

  “Pinne? Pinne is that you I hear splashing around in the fountain?” a woman called.

  Mara froze. Water continued dripping from her knuckles and splashed into the pool. Not seconds ago, the drops barely made a sound. Hearing them then, each drop might as well have been a crack of thunder during a funeral prayer.

  “Pinne?” the woman repeated, her tone notching up. “Get over here or I’ll have the guards drag you myself. Your master is suffering so. Come!”

  Mara lurched from the fountain. She darted in the opposite direction of the woman’s voice and sprinted into an ivy-walled channel. It turned and twisted much like the lanes and avenues of Upper and Lower Sollan. She wiped the water dripping from her lips and smiled.

  Once again, she’d avoided being caught. The Six truly did protect her.

  She whipped around a corner and skidded to a halt. She’d reached the opposite end of the garden labyrinth, and before her stood a gazebo with delicate arches wrapped in hydrangeas with blooms every heavenly shade of pale. Oil lamps lit the gazebo’s interior with a flickering gold light while burning incense trailed the sultry perfume of sandalwood into the still air.

  In the gazebo’s center, a long table draped in ivory linens waited. On that table, a woman rested on her stomach. She draped a linen over her waist, but her back was bare and glimmering like polished wood.

  “There you are, Pinne,” the woman said without looking up, her tone tinged with an air of disappointment. “Come, give your master a massage. It’s been such a dreadful night hosting my husband’s silly Harvest Festival parties. I had to oversee the cleanup while he left with his friends for the lower city. No doubt looking for a whore to bed. Like he thinks I don’t know the little adventures he has beyond the wall. I swear, men are all the same. If you’d lose just a tad more weight, Pinne, you might discover this secret for yourself. Your swelling waist has been so unseemly as of late. It fits so poorly set amongst the blossoms of my little garden, and I must say I’ve asked the kitchen staff to be on the lookout for you nabbing nibbles while they cook.”

  Fear froze Mara’s feet. She stared at the woman, knowing that at any moment the noble might glance up and see that Mara was not the servant named Pinne, but the ashwalk pilgrim the entire city hunted. Mara could practically hear the woman’s scream split the air.

  “Well?” the woman asked, her disappointment edging on frustration. “Did I not order you to rub the weary from my back? Quit standing there like a dumbstruck glimmer fiend and get to work before I dock your rations.”

  The woman snorted a laugh. Mara fought the urge to spit in her hair.

  Instead, Mara swallowed. She squeezed her son and edged to the gazebo. “Y—Yes. As you command.”

  “Good girl, Pinne.”

  A pitcher of oil rested on a pedestal by the massage table. Mara grabbed its silver handle and dribbled the gleaming liquid on the woman’s porcelain skin. She frowned at the oiled hourglass of the noble’s figure and her soft shoulders. Mara had dealt with worse at the House of Sin and Silk from both men and women, but somehow that night, she would have paid a handsome sum to treat a filthy beggar over a body with its edges worn smooth by a life of luxury.

  While Mara shuddered, the noble shivered with delight. “The oil’s still warm. It feels good. Don’t go sparingly with it, Pinne. We’ve got plenty more.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Mara poured more oil onto the noble’s glistening back. It streamed in thick lines onto the linen.

  “Now work it in and don’t be shy. You know I like a little push.”

  Mara bit her lip and put her free hand into the oily slop. She worked her fingers into the doughy layers of the woman’s shoulders.

  “Harder, Pinne. You usually do better than this. I hope you haven’t snuck any wine for the Harvest Festival. You told me you don’t drink, but one can never trust servants these days. Their stock is just so low, you see. And use both hands!”

  Mara squeezed her son. I would never let you go for the likes of her.

  “One-handed is a new technique,” Mara said as she forced a smile. “The other ladies of Hightable all rave about it.”

  “They do?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It is the newest fashion amongst the highborn, so the other household servants say. They say…Good King Sol prefers it.”

  “He does? Interesting. I—I do feel a certain loosening of the muscles I had not experienced before when you used two hands. Yes, it is very nice indeed. Very smooth. Very calming. This single handed massage is not so bad after all. Good King Sol knows what’s best. I shall make sure to tell the other ladies how I enjoyed it.”

  Mara rolled her eyes. “Indeed, ma’am.”

  As she worked on her massage, her thoughts drifted to escape. She had no idea where the real Pinne might linger, but Mara doubted it wouldn’t be much longer before the servant checked on her lady.

  “Tell me, Pinne,” the woman said, “have you heard anything of this sorceress stalking the lower city? I do hope she’s burning some of the filth and flotsam down there. It could do with a good fiery cleansing before the king’s men gut her.”

  Mara swallowed the glass like lump in her throat and hoped her teeth wouldn’t crack she clenched them so hard. “I’ve only heard she is an ashwalk pilgrim and that the priests of the Serpent Sun hunt her. Do you—do you know anything else?”

  “I only know what the other ladies whisper. They say she’s out to kill the king. Good luck with that, I say. I hear Good King Sol has already assumed a throne in heaven, riding on his glorious serpent, and we all know no god can be killed, even if it is a sorceress flinging spells.”

  “But is there room for another throne among the Six?”

  The woman sucked in her breath. “Dear me, you stupid girl. Servants are so blissfully ignorant. You’re property of House Iona. You wait on the most esteemed Lady Rin Iona. Don’t go spouting off about the Six around anyone else if you’d like to keep your head. Some highborn still bend a knee at night when no one looks, but I’l
l not tempt my house with a serpent’s wrath. Understand?”

  “I do. Please forgive me.”

  “You are forgiven. You are from the lower city, after all. Children of your stock just do not have the mental capacity of the nobility. It is a fact you should know quite well by now.” Lady Rin turned her head to the side. She smiled with her eyes closed while Mara’s eyes shot wide as full moons.

  “It won’t matter much after tonight anyway,” Lady Rin continued. “They say Good King Sol will purge our city of the Six soon enough. Once the cleansing begins—”

  “Cleansing? Tonight?”

  “Yes, tonight, or did that hollow head of yours think the king would stand to have those temples surrounding his home for all eternity? Why do you think he ordered every priest and acolyte into them? Not to keep them safe. Not to keep him safe. He’s gathering them under his heel so when the time is right, he can bring it crashing down on their little heads like a soldier’s boot on roaches. What better time than Harvest Festival to wipe the stain of the Six from Sollan than when the city is drunk on wine and saltwater gin and bedding maidens on barges?”

  “All those most loyal to the Six are in the lower city,” Mara murmured. “There will be no one to hear the priests’ screams.”

  “No one but those of us faithful to the Serpent Sun, and I for one will enjoy a nice glass of wine while I watch from my balcony as the Mother’s temple burns. Oh—Pinne, you’re massaging a little too hard. You’ll leave a bruise!”

  Mara caught her breath and softened her palm against the woman’s shoulder even though she wanted nothing more than to break it and strangle her with a strip of burlap. Mara’s gaze caught the flickering oil lamp, and for the briefest moment, she considered ripping it from the arch and tossing the flame on Lady Rin’s oiled back.

  Mara blinked away the dark thoughts. She remembered Vibiana’s screams, and the wicked burns from the widow’s hearth fire. Even though Lady Rin was more serpent than a snake, Mara’s will lacked the hunger to visit that cruelty on another living being.