Midnight Quest

by Honor Raconteur

  “No Thornock soldier be daring enough to hassle us in Ramath,” Rialt elaborated in clipped words. “But Bryn be another duck. They will no hesitate to engage us here. We be expecting trouble.”

  “Oh. That’s vastly unreassuring. What do I do if we are attacked?”

  “You grab the saddle horn and hang tight, even if I dismount,” Rialt ordered. “You be aboard a warhorse, see. He will protect you even if I be down.”

  “Alright.”

  Rialt knew that his answer would no really solve the problem, no if they were outnumbered. That sounded all well and good in theory, but what if all three men were injured? Or driven away from her? The only thing she knew about horses was how to mount and dismount. She had no a clue how to lead one. If all of her guards were defeated, she likely would no stand a chance either, warhorse or no.

  They rode the rest of the day in uneasy silence.

  The sun had started its decent toward the horizon when Jewel sat up abruptly in front of him, head snapping to the left. “Oh!”

  Had she heard something? Rialt came alert, hand automatically reaching for the haft over his shoulder. “What?”

  “The crystal is there!” she said in excitement, pointing to her left. “It suddenly feels very distinct instead of vague. Oh good. We won’t have to go to the temple and search through the records here either.”

  They must be close if she could feel it distinctly. Rialt heaved out a sigh of relief and lowered his head. One less temple to go to sounded grand to him. “That be good, lass. How far, do you know?”

  She pointed in its direction and said, “It’s there. Just there. No more than an hour’s travel away, I would think.”

  “Fruithy is that direction,” Chizeld noted thoughtfully.

  She cocked her head, puzzled. “Fruithy?”

  “Famous vineyard,” Rialt explained. “The sweetest wine be said to come from Fruithy. I have never been this far south, so I had no notion we were that close. Lorin, you know the place?”

  “Been there once,” he confirmed. “Not a large town, but it spreads out over the foothills.”

  “How far?”

  “About an hour,” Chizeld answered dryly. “Crystal likely buried in foothills somewhere.”

  “Eh, belike it be buried,” Rialt grumbled. “But no in rocks. Lass, how much would you care to wager it be buried in grape vines?”

  “Oh dear. You’re probably right. The vines would be attracted to the crystal as a matter of course over the years.”

  “Like Ramath’s crystal?”

  “Heard about that, did you? Eh, it was a right mess to hack it clear. Mind, Jewel pulled it easily back into place once we freed it, but…” Rialt’s voice trailed off in a resigned grumble. “If that crystal truly be buried in Fruithy’s precious grape vines, it will be a fashrie to pull it free. The local people belike will no view the enterprise kindly.”

  “That sounds like a terrible understatement,” Jewel sighed.

  “Sarvell,” Rialt turned with a creak in his saddle to look at the man riding behind him. “Have you been here before?”

  “It’s been years,” Sarvell admitted frankly. “We normally just have an agent come and inspect the wine for us. But I remember it well enough, I think. You want me to scout ahead?”

  “Ah. If there be lookouts, I want to know. We do no need to go to Elahandra’s temple but—”

  “Actually,” Jewel interrupted apologetically, “We will.”

  Rialt turned back around to stare at her in puzzlement. Her expression had screwed up into an anticipatory grimace. “Eh?”

  “I am the high priestess for the Order in Thornock,” she explained with a shrug. “But I am also the Guardian of the Barrier. Because of that, I’m rather like a dignitary. Whenever I visit another territory, I must visit at least one temple of Elahandra.”

  “Protocol,” Chizeld agreed although he looked like his head hurt just thinking about it. “No other choice.”

  Jewel clasped her hands together in prayer-fashion and lifted them to the heavens. “Please, please, don’t let them talk my ear off.”

  “Who is the prayer to?” Lorin inquired dryly.

  “Any god listening,” she grumbled, letting her hands abruptly drop back to the saddle horn. “It’s been decades since any high priestess came around and visited the other clans. They’re likely dying to talk.”

  “Probably.” Lorin seemed to find this amusing.

  Rialt personally did no find it so. After all, if Jewel had to sit there listening to a bunch of ninnies yammering on, so did he. Temple or no, he could no leave her side with strangers about. Shards take it.

  “So we need to visit the temple of either Thaazan or Morchel first and then Elahandra’s,” Sarvell summarized. “Alright. I’ll go take a look.”

  Rialt watched as Sarvell kicked his horse up into a fast trot, quickly outpacing them. He prayed for a miracle as the other man rode away.

  ~*~*~*~

  Sarvell’s memory of Fruithy turned out to be hazier than he expected. It had indeed been a few years since his last visit. And he’d normally been running around in the dark at the time, to boot. (The hazards of being under Liam-the-Smuggler’s tutelage.) So he actually didn’t remember the town much at all. He ended up riding all along one main street and up another before he found a Temple of Morchel. As no one would find it strange that a Brynian would stop at their god’s temple to offer a prayer, he dismounted in front and took a careful look around.

  The temple couldn’t have been described as large or glamorous—none of Morchel’s temples were, as he was the more practical of the twin gods. It sat on the corner of the main street, as large as any inn with an open and sparkling fountain of water dominating the front courtyard. Three wooden doors, pointing in an arch fashion, were behind the fountain and supposedly led inside. Those would be the prayer rooms, built so that anyone could confer aloud in prayer while maintaining privacy. In this new sunlight of the year, the whiteness of the building nearly blinded him and he had to keep a hand up to shield his eyes from the worst of it.

  He stepped around the fountain and up to a prayer door. Of the doors, only one had a red ribbon still hanging outside of it, indicating it was empty. Sarvell snagged the ribbon as he opened the door and stepped inside. He didn’t close the door all of the way but left it open a crack so that he could intently study the outside.

  Sarvell didn’t have Rialt or Lorin’s military training, but he had developed an eye for people after so many years in the merchant line. He knew how to spot troublemakers. And those two idiots, loitering about in front of that pub, were trouble. They were too well dressed for being drunkards, but at the same time any man able to afford good clothes wouldn’t be just lounging about in the middle of a work day. They didn’t particularly look Thornockian to him, but that didn’t mean Thornock didn’t own them.

  So the temple here had watchers. Shards. Someone in Thornock clearly knew protocol well enough to predict what Jewel would need to do in each clan’s territory.

  Marking those two in his memory, he opened the door and stepped out, re-hanging the ribbon on its peg as he did so. Casually, he walked back to his horse and remounted, turning to continue his path up the street. The two at the pub never gave him a second glance. Whatever descriptions they’d been given weren’t much on details, then. Good. Maybe they could use that.

  As he rode, he passed the Temple of Elahandra. Like Morchel’s, this building also had a modest size to it, only one story tall. Clearly, it had never been the site for the crystal—it didn’t have the height for it. But it had been constructed of the same blinding white stone, likely granite, although there were no prayer doors here but a single entrance. A small courtyard lined with flowerbeds and small fountains led the way to the front door, and while well-tended, the temple still had an air of disuse to it. Perhaps he only felt that way because absolutely no one approached it. Well, that only made sense. Why pray to a foreign god when you could talk to your own?


  But it also meant that no amount of disguises would get them into this temple. He didn’t see anyone watching it, however. Perhaps Thornock had no idea where the crystals were? Perhaps they could only afford to post one or two men in each city? That would explain why they focused on watching one place and not both.

  He shook his head and continued riding. He half-remembered an inn ahead that Liam used here. He’d book them two rooms before going outside of the city to wait. They couldn’t be that far behind him after all.

  He met them on the outskirts of the town, patiently sitting off to one side of the road. Once they were within earshot, he called out to them, “Safe to enter!”

  Rialt waved a hand back in acknowledgement, but didn’t try to hold any sort of conversation until they were within a few feet of each other.

  “What does the place look like?” Jewel asked him.

  “It’s not a large place,” Sarvell answered almost absently. “There’re two, long main streets that has various businesses and shops on it. Several dozen houses surround the shops on the main square. Nestled against the foothills there’re several very large warehouses. Where they store the wine until it’s properly cured, I would think. All around us there are rows upon rows of grapevines, still dormant from the winter cold.”

  “What be it like inside?” Rialt asked.

  “Rather what I expected,” Sarvell grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. “There’re two watchers on the Temple of Morchel, which apparently is the only Brynian temple in this town. No one’s watching the Elahandra Temple that I could see. If we pass Jewel off as an invalid seeking Morchel’s blessings, carrying her in and out, we might buy some time.”

  “Sounds like a fine plan,” Rialt approved. “Lass?”

  “I have no objections.” She added firmly, “We’re walking to find the crystal.”

  Sarvell gave a hearty chuckle at her statement. “Tired of being on a horse?”

  “Sick of it.”

  Bortonor let out a bark that sounded eerily like agreement.

  “Eh, well, we know where you stand on the matter,” Rialt assured him wryly. “Alright then.”

  They rode toward the inn first as they needed to wash the dirt of the road off before they could pass as an average Brynian citizen visiting a temple. Sarvell’s ears caught snatches of conversations from the local townsfolk as they rode in. Most of it dealing with this strange group passing by them. Granted, they were an odd party for this place. Only merchants really had reason to come to Fruithy. But three soldiers, a blind woman and a dog? Well, they were another kettle of fish entirely. It made Sarvell think that they should avoid moving about in a group like this, but…if anything did go wrong it would take all three of them to protect her.

  It was quite the predicament.

  The inn seemed eerily similar to the inn they’d stayed in at Givch. It stood two stories, with the rooms on the second floor. The main door let in to the taproom with kitchens hiding somewhere in the back of the building. Even the rooms they were given had the same feel to it—a single bed, washstand, and small chest of drawers. The baths were hotter than usual, being as they were just filled with steaming water.

  The heavenly water must have felt marvelous to Jewel as she was frankly loathe to get out. They had to speak honeyed words through the closed door just to coax her out of the tub.

  While they waited for her to get dressed, Sarvell held a whispered conference in the hallway with the other two. “I think I should go with her to Morchel’s Temple. Alone. All three of us would attract the wrong attention.”

  Rialt’s mouth opened with an objection, but he paused before he could utter a word and then closed it again with a troubled frown. Sarvell eyed him sideways, waiting. The Ramathan had been growing more protective of Jewel by the day. If Sarvell hadn’t known better, he’d swear that they’d been lifelong companions instead of…what was it, only a week?

  Chizeld Lorin watched Rialt with the same expected caution, as if waiting for a protest. If Sarvell had said that Lorin needed to go with her, and the other two wait some distance away, Rialt probably would protest as he didn’t completely trust the man yet. But Sarvell he did, apparently, as he closed his eyes in defeat.

  “Eh, be truth,” he agreed with a year’s worth of sighs. “We be an odd party. Alright, Sarvell, you go with her. You should carry her in, like as no. She will seem more sickly that way, and the story more credible.”

  Sarvell nodded in agreement. “Alright. If you stay further up the street, out of sight of that pub, I think you can wait nearby without those two watchers spotting you.”

  He looked more heartened at that. “Eh, a fine plan. We will do so. Er…can you take a dog into the temple?”

  “Not Morchel’s,” Sarvell answered dryly.

  “The dog will attract unwanted attention,” Lorin agreed, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “Shouldn’t pose a problem at Elahandra’s temple, though.”

  “Because he be a gift from herself?” Rialt finished the thought with an amused shake of the head. “Well, that be fine. But how will you explain that to him?”

  Truly, the dog put up a fuss just having Jewel up on horseback where he couldn’t immediately reach her. Having her out of sight completely wouldn’t go over well.

  Jewel chose that moment to exit the bathing room, her hair still damp and laying over one shoulder, dirty clothes and towel bundled in the crook of her arm. Her free hand tangled in the base of Bortonor’s head.

  Sarvell looked down at the dog, scratching at the back of his head. He’d managed to convince one guard dog to stand aside. Now how to convince the other…

  ~*~*~*~

  They visited Morchel’s Temple without mishap. Sarvell carried her from horseback all the way to a prayer room without their watchers becoming suspicious. Jewel knelt in front of the small altar and offered a simple prayer, formally asking permission to work in his territory to put the crystal back in place.

  Sarvell almost had heart failure when Morchel—a god that had never spoken directly to him—actually appeared in the small confines of the room. Jewel clearly felt his presence, as she turned sharply to him, half-rising from her kneeling position. Morchel looked like a waifish child, with blond hair waving wildly about his head and blue eyes glinting with mischief. He wore a simple tunic and short pants—with what looked like dirt stains on the knees, no less. Just what had he been doing before coming here?

  He beamed down at Jewel, and reached out long enough to give her a pat on the head. “Granted, Priestess! Go forth and conquer!” With a carefree laugh he disappeared as abruptly as he’d appeared.

  Jewel blinked several times, almost disoriented. “Well. That was…easy.”

  Sarvell had to swallow twice to get his mouth to work. “Easier than I expected, certainly.” And less terrifying than Juven’s appearance had been. The lack of threats and swords probably helped. Blowing out a breath, he shook himself back to the present. “Alright, let’s go to Elahandra’s Temple.”

  He opened the door and replaced the red ribbon, and then turned back to her. As soon as she put a foot outside, he bent far enough to lift her into his arms. She put both arms around his neck and hid her face against his shoulder, acting for all the world as if she were sick, while in reality making sure no one got a clear look at her. Sarvell kept one eye on the watchers as he stepped around the fountain and walked to his horse, but they were so bored they were actually ordering tankards of ale now.

  “Well?” she whispered against his shoulder. “Are they watching us?”

  “Not at all. We might have bought a day or so this way.” Sarvell snorted as a thought occurred to him. “I think the hardest part about today was getting your dog to go with Rialt and Lorin.”

  Jewel snickered. “He was very hard to persuade. I’ll have to remember that threatening to make him sleep outside is effective, though.”

  Truly. Now if she could come up with a good threat for the other watchdog, life would be easier all a
round.

  They mounted up and turned toward the north, as if they had every intention of riding out of town. Sarvell never turned his head, but he watched from the corner of his eye. The two never looked away from the temple doors. Sloppy, sloppy. They weren’t worth their pay, not even close.

  Rialt, Lorin, and a sulking dog were waiting at an open café two stores up. They perked up the moment that Sarvell passed the watchers, an obvious question on their faces: any problems? Sarvell flashed them a victorious smile.

  Bortonor darted for them at full speed, then danced around the horse with his tail wagging at full speed.

  Jewel must have heard him, as she lifted her head and leaned forward slightly so she could speak down to him. “Yes, Bortonor, I’m back. Were you good?”

  The dog gave a bark of confirmation.

  “Lies, lass, lies,” Rialt disagreed in a slow drawl as he approached. “He whined and fretted the entire time.”

  Sarvell glanced at Lorin and then inclined his head toward Rialt, silently asking: He did the same, didn’t he?

  Lorin nodded in wry confirmation.

  “Well, but he stayed put,” Jewel reasoned with her mouth twitching into a crooked smile. “So I suppose he can sleep with me after all.”

  If Sarvell didn’t know better, he would swear that Bortonor looked relieved to hear this. He studied the dog thoughtfully for a moment. Just how much did he really understand, anyway? Sarvell had owned a few dogs as a child but he didn’t remember them being that smart. Had Elahandra enhanced the dog’s intelligence? What was he thinking? Of course she had!

  Shaking his head, he put the thought aside to be chewed on later. “Alright, let’s get your formal visit out of the way,” Sarvell said, getting them back in motion and out of a busy street.

  Jewel once again lifted her hands in prayer fashion. “I pray to any god that is listening. Please, please don’t let them be bored old women who have nothing to do but gossip.”

  ~*~*~*~

  Three hours later, they finally managed to escape from the Temple of Elahandra. Jewel rubbed at her temples with both hands, shoulders sagging. “The gods weren’t listening,” she bemoaned.