“Probably true.”
Sarvell led the way back down, no doubt looking for trouble. Jewel noticed the difference in the taproom before she even made it down the stairs. Before her bath, the noise level had been nearly deafening. Now it hovered at a muted rumble, with everyone whispering to each other. Some version or another of the trouble in the bathing room had made its way here and everyone was discussing it.
A male voice she’d never heard before came from the foot of the stairs. “Constable Racon, Third Street Police. Am addressing Priestess Jewel Jomadd?”
She turned to face him and gave a nod of the head. “You are, Constable. Thank you for coming so promptly. Has anyone told you what has happened here?”
“A very garbled version, yes. If possible, will need to take a formal statement.”
“Of course.” She put her feet on the ground floor. “Is there some quiet place we can talk?”
“Yes. This way.”
Sarvell took her hand and guided her in the constable’s wake. Before she could go two feet, she could hear Rialt and Chizeld join them. That could only mean that the still alive assassin had somehow been dealt with.
Jewel had no idea where they ended up, but from the distance she walked to get there, she’d judge it to be in the back of the inn somewhere. The room was simply furnished with a single table and a number of chairs, from what she could discern.
The constable asked a great many questions and while he was polite, he was also thorough. Jewel must have repeated her statement three times before he finally seemed to be satisfied.
“Many thanks, Priestess. Nothing more is needed from this party.”
“Thank you, Constable. Might I ask, what will be done with the man captured?”
“That man made an attempt of murder, and that is not tolerated. Assassins are executed here.”
She felt like rubbing her temples even though a headache wasn’t brewing. When she’d first started this journey, she’d never imagined that it would come with a body count. “Thank you.”
“Safe journey,” he offered as he stood before quietly leaving the room.
“Now what?” she asked the room in general.
“We’ll take better precautions,” Rialt promised her in a dark rumble. “You did the right thing, lass, screaming for help.”
“Only thing I could think to do,” she admitted. Sighing, she stood and headed for the door. “Let’s get some sleep. I have a feeling we’ll need it.”
~*~*~*~
After tossing and turning for an indefinite amount of time, Jewel gave up on the idea of sleeping. Her nerves were on edge after everything that had happened. Relaxing enough to fall asleep would be impossible.
“Lass, you be no sleeping.”
And of course Rialt would notice. “You’re not either.”
The sound of cloth shifting against cloth came from the floor, as if Rialt had just turned over. “I be a-waiting for you to sleep,” he stated dryly.
“Well, maybe I’m waiting for you to sleep,” she riposted in a flash of mischief.
“Oh, be that the right of it? Well then, on my count, we fall asleep together.”
He was teasing…right? “Rialt, you can’t really fall asleep on command, can you?”
A soft chuckle rumbled in the air. “The army teaches a man quick-like how to snatch sleep where he can.”
She recognized that he was teasing her, but from the way he said that, it sounded as if he really could fall asleep that quickly if he put his mind to it. Impulsively, she reached over the edge of the bed.
Maybe he sensed what she wanted, as he reached up and grasped her hand in a loose grip, fingers curling around her hand.
Calluses and warm skin. An unintentional smile softened the corners of her mouth. She’d known even as a child that human touch offered a level of comfort that nothing else could, but there was something about Rialt…being in contact with him soothed every anxiety in her heart.
Jewel opened her mouth to ask if he would simply join her on the bed but bit the question back. No. It wouldn’t be proper. Besides, it might put him in a very awkward situation, which she was loathe to do. Still, her heart gave a tug in her chest. She wanted more contact than just one hand.
“Do no worry,” he whispered quietly. “If anything comes through that door, I will meet it.”
She didn’t have one doubt about that. “I know,” she whispered back.
Telling herself not to be so selfish, she tightened her grip on his hand, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-five
From the sluggish way that everyone moved the next morning, she didn’t think anyone had had a good night’s sleep. The only one who seemed to be able to function normally was Rialt, but then again, he was accustomed to such attacks.
Fortunately for their nerves, they crossed the Honorvar and arrived in Shipp without any fanfare. After the events of last night no one really wanted to stay in Shipp. Being in a city hadn’t provided any measure of safety as they’d once assumed it would. Frankly, being outside of a city would be safer as there were less potential threats. They pressed on and instead camped well outside of Shipp’s city boundaries.
The land north of Shipp was largely flat, with some grassland that reminded Jewel of the area outside of Hawleywood. There were groves of trees here and there but no real forests, so the men could see for miles in any direction. They took turns at night watching for threats, but Jewel thought that everyone got more sleep out here in the open than they would in any inn.
They might have continued in this vein if not for the rainy season finally catching up to them.
It took two days of steady travel by horseback to get from Shipp to Morton. It was on the morning of the second day that a thunderstorm started to roll in. Jewel could feel the heavy humidity and pressure of the storm against her skin and she could hear the rumblings of the storm overhead. It sounded like a real monster and she had no desire to be caught out in it.
“Is it moving fast?” she asked Rialt. As usual, she was riding in front of him, so he was the easiest person to ask.
“No, and I be thankful for that. If we press hard for Morton, we might make it afore that breaks.”
“Let’s pick up the pace, then.”
“Eh, that we will do.”
They went from the fast walk they’d been maintaining all morning to a quick trot. The horses, after having travelled most of Evard, had built up their stamina. They were able to travel at that pace for quite some time before Rialt deemed it prudent to slow down to a walk again and let them catch their breath. They continued in this pattern of walk, trot, walk, trot, until they reached Morton that afternoon, hours ahead of schedule.
They dismounted in front of an inn that sat on Morton’s main thoroughfare. Sarvell, with a hint of sadistic cheer in his voice, suggested to Jewel, “Why don’t you bargain for some rooms?”
As he normally did this, she was a bit taken aback at the suggestion. “Well, certainly I can, but why…?”
“It’ll be good practice.”
Good practice for what, precisely? Oh wait. Because of everything that had happened in the past few days, Jewel had forgotten a very important detail.
Morton was in Jordia.
Oh heavens. Screwing up her courage (and praying that her tongue wouldn’t get tied into another knot) she stepped into the inn.
Sarvell snickered as he guided her in. “You look like you’re going into battle.”
“I feel like it, too,” she grumbled to him. “Where’s the inn keeper?”
“Looks like he’s heading this direction,” Sarvell murmured to her before raising his voice enough to be heard over the afternoon’s crowd. “A good day to you, sir.”
“A good day to you,” the innkeeper responded cordially.
Jewel realized that she needed every minute of those practice sessions Sarvell had made them do. Even now, after a solid three days of practice, she felt a little tongue tied in how to phr
ase a simple request. In any other part of the country, she could simply walk into an inn and ask for three rooms. Here, she had to phrase it in a more understated manner.
“Forgive the imposition, but we are searching for a place to rest for a day.”
“Is that so, young mistress,” a kind and very mellow voice responded. “What requirements do you have?”
Requirements…er…oh! “My companions are used to sleeping in the same room although they insist that I sleep in a separate place that is near them.”
“I see. I believe I am able to help you. Your furry companion will stay with you?”
“He is used to sleeping with me,” she admitted. “This is acceptable?”
“Perfectly so,” he assured her genially. What followed was a very polite haggling over the price of the rooms, stable room for their horses, and for dinner. Jewel felt mentally exhausted afterwards.
Sarvell patted her on the shoulder as they stepped outside to tell the others of their success. “You did well,” he murmured next to her ear. “I could tell he was pleased at how polite you were.”
“I feel like my tongue is in knots,” she complained to him.
“If you feel like that now, just wait a few more days,” was his unmerciful response. “My head was splitting after my last trip here.”
Oh glory.
Jewel tried to shunt aside the feeling of impending doom as she went about the usual routine of settling into a room for the night and making sure that a cot was brought up for Rialt’s use. She had descended the stairs and made it to the main room before she remembered the other cultural quirk Sarvell had mentioned—you couldn’t eat dinner until you heard the story behind its creation.
Because of the impending storm, no one had wanted to stop for a mid-day meal. They’d voted to just press on and have a hearty dinner instead. Jewel’s stomach had lodged several protests of neglect and she had been looking forward to just sitting down and consuming everything within reach. Having to wait while the aroma of food tantalized her stomach…well, she wasn’t looking forward to it.
Rialt and Bortonor both escorted her to the table.
“There you are,” Sarvell greeted. “I ordered dinner for all of us.”
At least that was one delay out of the way. Jewel slid into a chair, absently patting Bortonor on the head after she had settled.
“Never travelled through Blenkhorn Mountains,” Rialt observed. “Sarvell?”
“There’s actually a decent highway running through,” Sarvell assured the table. “We’re not going to lose that much time unless there’s some problem with the road. This rainstorm actually might wash out some areas, so it’s best to prepare for delays.”
“The man’s full of good news,” Chizeld bemoaned.
“Ah, here comes dinner.” Sarvell lowered his tone to a more confidential one before adding, “Now remember. Don’t touch the food until the waitress says something like ‘that is the story’ alright?”
The whole table sighed at the reminder.
“Welcome to Rosehaven Inn,” a light female voice said in a cheerful tone. “I am Essie, and I welcome you. Here is the dinner that you wished for.” Several heavy objects plunked onto the wooden surface of the table. “The vegetables for this meal come from—”
Jewel listened with forced patience as each vegetable’s origin was described, as well as the transportation method used to bring it here. The meat was rabbit, so of course the story of how it was caught had to be told as well. Fortunately, nothing funny or interesting had happened while the food was actually being cooked, so the table was spared having to listen to that as well. Still, the story took a good five minutes to tell and by then, Jewel’s empty stomach had issued several threats.
“That is the story,” the waitress finished with that same cheerful tone. “Please enjoy your meal.”
“Thank you,” Sarvell responded politely.
Jewel passed the bowls around and served herself. Even without touching the food directly, she could feel the heat of it easily. Everything was lukewarm, at best. Resigned, she picked up a fork and dug in.
“At least the taste is good,” Chizeld observed.
“They’re good cooks,” Sarvell agreed. “You’re just not going to eat anything hot.”
“Lass?”
“Yes, Rialt.”
“Get us in and out of this place quickly.”
She lifted her glass, which he clinked his own against. “I’ll do my best.”
~*~*~*~
Before leaving Morton altogether the next morning, party reached a general consensus that visiting the local Temple of Elahandra would be a good idea. After all, the theory about the Jordia crystal being far to the north was just that—a plausible theory. There was no need to travel all of that distance if there wasn’t a reason to.
So Sarvell led the way down the main street and to the center of town where the temple sat. As expected of a small town, the building wasn’t very large. It was made of white granite, as all temples were, with two prayer rooms and a larger main door in the center.
Chizeld had heard Jewel remark happily several times that the Jordian temple visit would be the easiest by far. After all, Elahandra was the goddess of Jordia. Jewel didn’t have to go and ask permission—already had it. Instead of two temple visits, Jewel was only required to do one, the more formal visit of a high priestess to a temple priestess.
No one had really anticipated that this visit, out of all, would actually be the most taxing.
How the priestesses had known of coming, Chizeld had no idea, but there must have been at least some forewarning, as a veritable feast had been laid out. The three old crones were nearly shaking with happiness, almost teary-eyed, with the most formal version of the white Order robes on and every grey hair in place. Chizeld, sort of, sympathized. These women had likely been in this small temple most of life, with absolutely nothing of consequence happening. Then, out of the blue, not only did a high priestess appear but the Guardian of the Barrier. It was a wonder no one had experienced heart failure yet.
The women had promptly captured Jewel by both arms and dragged straight to the dining table and then further pinned Jewel in place by sitting close by. Rialt, uneasy, had chosen to stand behind Jewel’s chair, further blocking any exit.
Chizeld managed to escape from the opening pleasantries by asking politely to examine the records, which the three priestesses promptly granted permission for. Since the records were well organized (and largely neglected, judging from the amount of dust), it took mere moments to find a very old Order book that held record of a high priestess being called in Jordia to Lyra. The only reason why Lyra would need a high priestess was to manage a crystal. Confirmation enough.
Hoping to circumvent a torturous visit like the one in Bryn, Chizeld hurried back to the main room where everyone was gathered. Alas…there was no escape.
Jewel had managed well enough the first hour, politely responding to all of the questions, but when the conversation started to get repetitive, a strained smile appeared.
Rialt started casting Chizeld pointed looks, waiting for the same magical phrase that had released them from the last bothersome visit. But Chizeld didn’t think that would work here. Verisians were very well versed in protocol and etiquette. Misquoting something would only make the guardsman seem like an idiot and likely spark a lecture on proper protocol to boot.
Impatient, Rialt finally shifted over to lean closer to Chizeld’s ear, murmuring, “Do we need to bide three hours again afore you pipe up, man?”
Chizeld gave a small, helpless shake of the head. “Women likely know Order protocol better. The same trick won’t work here.”
Judging from the dark scowl that slammed over Rialt’s face, that wasn’t the right answer. Turning, the Ramathan caught Sarvell’s attention and waved the man closer. Sarvell, who had been standing on Rialt’s left side, only had to sidle over a few feet to join in on the whispered conversation. With a wary eye on the burbling prie
stesses, Sarvell kept the tone low. “What?”
“Chizeld says the same trick will no work here,” Rialt reported in a near growl. “Any ideas?”
Sarvell favored Rialt with quite the look. “If I had, do you think we’d still be standing around here?”
“You be the traveling guide,” Rialt responded with a hiss. “Say we be rushed on time, or some such.”
“Rialt, for the love of the gods, I am not going to lie in front of four priestesses.” Sarvell darted another cautious look at the women, but the ladies carried on, oblivious. “We have plenty of time to get to Jordia and you know it.”
Rialt looked between both and then rolled eyes heavenward. “Oh for the love of—”
Heaving an explosive sigh, the man took a deliberate step forward and laid a hand on Jewel’s shoulder.
“Lass, we can no bide here much longer,” the words were announced at just the right volume to cut through the chatter.
Chizeld had to bite the bottom lip, hard, to keep from laughing when Rialt followed up the words with a caress along the axe’s hilt and a meaningful look at the women. All three priestesses froze, looking at the axe with alarm.
“If we bide much longer, the assassins might catch on, you ken,” Rialt added, almost as if an afterthought.
Jewel, proving to be a fine actress, responded in consternation, “Oh dear, have we been here that long? I am so terribly sorry, sisters. I had not thought to stay and endanger any of you. Please, before I bring danger to your doorstep, do allow me to leave your hospitality.”
“Assassins?” one woman squeaked faintly, looking strangely green in the face.
“Corbeird is not pleased with my progress,” Jewel responded with splayed hands. “He has been seeking to thwart me by sending Daath assassins. You do understand, I hope.”
“Yes,” the middle priestess managed to say. “Quite.”
With a winsome smile, Jewel managed to scoot back the chair and stand up from the table all in one motion. “Thank you ever so much for your time and for the lovely meal. Elahandra’s blessings be with you.”
Midnight Quest Page 30