by Dave Dickie
“Lead the way,” said Daesal, and they all stood and followed Padan and Jedia to the door. The two Hasamelis priests led them through the maze of tents as surely as Nyjha had. Stegar suspected it was part of the Hasamelis package, the god of travellers giving them some kind of internal map to follow. Jedia was amazingly spry for his age, and it did not take long before they stood outside a large tent, one of the more permanent-looking ones. This tent, however, was plain canvas, with none of the artwork marking the Ibisi tents. Jedia led them to a flap and they entered. Stegar felt the fabric of the tent when he passed through, and it had the same soft, slippery feel as the peace binding rope securing their weapons, the feel of magicked material.
Inside, the tent was divided into sections by heavy, hanging drapes. As opposed to the plain, unadorned exterior of the tent, the drapes were magnificent, depicting scenes from different locations in a way that was reminiscent of a Stangri scroll ink-wash painting, flatter and simpler than the real thing but no less beautiful because of it. Stegar couldn’t place two of the locations facing them. The third depicted the famous red sandstone cliffs outside Kuseme.
“Very nice,” said Daesal, gesturing toward the drapes.
“This is a temple?” asked Grim. Stegar could see rimii signs floating behind Grim’s eyes as he appraised the drapes. No one in their right mind would try to steal anything from a temple. Not, at least, without a long period of study and a good plan, and no fear of godly retribution. But even Stegar had a hard time thinking of this in the same category as the huge Hasamelis temple in Bythe, with its thick walls and acolyte-guarded doors.
Jedia smiled. “Our religion is about seeing and accepting things new and different, that one way of life is not better or worse than any other. When we establish temples in other lands, we try to blend in with the local culture, both to make our presence more palatable and to experience their culture ourselves.”
Stegar looked around and saw no sign of anyone other than themselves. “Where is everyone?” he asked.
Padan said, “We asked them to leave the entryway empty. We will explain when we are in a room.” Stegar frowned. If Padan was in fact here to help them, there was no reason for secrecy. But they had gone this far, and if it was some kind of trap, they were already in it, so when Padan lead them through a flap in one of the drapes, he followed along with the rest. On the other side a long corridor lead to the back of the tent. Padan took them to the back and slipped through the gap between two of the drapes lining the corridor, one a turquoise blue seascape that had to be somewhere in the bay of Kai, the other a walled city with mountains behind it, probably a Pranan city-state. Everyone filed in, finding a room with a thick rug and large pillows scattered around. There was a table in the center, only a foot or two off the ground. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. We can bring drink, alcoholic or not, if you want it,” said Padan.
“No need,” answered Daesal, sitting down on one of the pillows. Everyone followed suit. “I am guessing there is more to this than paying us back for our expenses. Why don’t you tell us what you want to know?”
Jedia and Padan glanced at each other. Then Jedia sighed. “We would like to know if you found anything in the cave.”
Daesal smiled and said, “Anything? Not just the staff of Hasamelis?” Stegar frowned. He didn’t know what she meant, which implied she knew things about the mission she had not shared with him. Jedia sat back, and for the first time, Stegar noticed the glint of a sharp intelligence in those faded blue eyes. Jedia might have the grandfatherly old codger act down pat, but Stegar didn’t think he was the kindly elder man he was making himself out to be.
“Anything,” Jedia said, “anything at all.”
Daesal gave him a small smile. “Let us pull the cups off our dice. I heard Padan talking about the staff before we left Bythe, but the way the mission was put together made little sense, and Padan was not excited, he was afraid. What did you expect to find there?”
Jedia leaned back and laced his fingers together. “If I tell you, you will share everything you saw in the cave?” Daesal nodded. Jedia nodded back. “A junior priest of the temple, Orelan Trireck, had a vision that the fabled staff of Hasamelis was hidden in a cave in Tawhiem. A remarkably detailed vision. This was received with some amount of disbelief, although the individual clearly believed what they said.”
“Why was it so hard to believe?” asked Grim.
Jedia shrugged, then winced as if it had hurt him to do so. “Because the staff, like the golden tether of the weather bull, is allegorical. Hasamelis may have been a real person, but the god Hasamelis is, like all the gods, abstract, more a concept than an individual. So while there may have been a staff, one with the exact powers and physical appearance from our teachings is unlikely to exist, and this vision described it exactly as it is in the scriptures. It wasn’t something we could ignore, but it did not ring true.”
“So you investigated,” said Daesal.
“In a way,” said Jedia. “One of the aspects of Hasamelis is that of the diviner.”
Daesal blinked. “Like an oracle? A future teller?”
Jedia shook his head no. “Divination falls into three categories: oracles, truthsayers, and finders. The first involves telling the future, the second discerning truth from lies, and the third uncovering things. We followers of Hasamelis have two of the three, truthsaying and finding. Finding allows a priest to focus on something they want, and inspiration follows, a path that may seem random but more often than not brings you to what you are looking for.”
“In this case, the source of this priest’s vision?” broke in Stegar.
Jedia nodded in agreement. “Yes. And it took me someplace I did not expect. In that location I met someone that told me certain things, things that convinced me that this vision was part of a ruse to capture a senior priest of Hasamelis. For what reason, I do not know. Our mission was intended to draw out those responsible and find out what they were planning.”
Daesal was nodding as Jedia spoke. “Somewhere you did not expect, someone told you certain things. If you want clear answers on what we found in the cave, you will need to be a bit more specific.”
Jedia looked uncomfortable. “These are things that the individual who provided the information would prefer to keep private.” Daesal just sat quietly. Finally Jedia sighed. “My wandering took me to the Sambhal temple. I spoke with the Archimandite there.”
“Chikal Ouyscra? Tessa?” broke in Daesal, looking surprised. Stegar recalled Chikal was the specific honorific for the head of the Sambhal temple. How Daesal knew the head of the temple well enough to call her by her first name was another mystery that Stegar would have to delve into later.
“Yes.” Jedia looked at Daesal with hooded eyes. “You know her?”
“In passing,” said Daesal. “And she gave you information?”
Jedia nodded and continued. “The Chikal could not confirm or deny that the priest in question used the temple’s… services.” Daesal assumed he was talking about the more carnal end of the Sambhal temple’s offerings, although the temple offered more intellectual pursuits as well. Jedia continued, “It is part of their policy to keep such things private. But that detail I confirmed later. What was more interesting was a seemingly unrelated story she told me about the Sambhal religion.”
“Which was?” asked Daesal.
“Most people know Sambhal was a demon who became a god. Some have read enough to know what he was before that transformation and how he accomplished it. But what is not well known outside the temple is that there are some residual aspects of the demon left, sufficient that some of the priests and priestesses use them to satisfy the less savory desires of the temple’s clients. She also told me that fulfilling these darker needs gives them influence over the people that partake of such things. That, and the priests and priestesses delving so deeply into that aspect of Sambhal… they can become, for lack of a better word, possessed, or at least influenced, by the will of what t
he Chikal believes are beings akin to what Sambhal was when he first arrived on this plane of existence.”
Daesal considered this for a moment. “You think they are communicating with the universe that Sambhal originated from,” said Daesal. Jedia nodded. “And you believe she told you this because one of the members of the temple, under the influence of these creatures, somehow embedded this vision in your priest’s head? That this ruse, as you call it, was instigated by these demons?” Jedia nodded again. Daesal sat quietly for a moment, but Stegar could see the cogs rotating in her head as she digested the information.
“Now it’s your turn to speak,” said Jedia. “What did you see in the cave?”
“Demons,” said Daesal.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Two days had passed. Daesal had given the Hasamelis priests an abbreviated version of their adventures, leaving out the details about Vrargron Mard Chazun and the great trolls. Jedia and Padan had been left with the impression that they had found a working teleportal in the cave that left them deep in troll territory, and that they had made the trip back by travelling surreptitiously, avoiding contact with the trolls. Padan had asked about Beldaer, and Daesal had said he had left the group during their travels, preferring the company of non-humans, which Padan mistook to mean other elves. Stegar wasn’t sure Jedia in particular had bought it, but if he was suspicious, he let it go without comment.
And then Daesal made a proposal. If Jedia was willing, she would talk with the Sambhal Priestess and try to extract more information. She had blushed when Jedia asked how, but her answer made sense to Stegar. “I have an unusually fine sense of smell. It tells me things about people, about whether they are telling the truth or lying, about how they are feeling. It is not telepathy, but with a guided conversation, it can reveal much more than the speaker intends for you to learn.” Stegar had backed her up on that claim. Jedia seemed doubtful, and said that he wasn’t sure that the Chikal would allow it. “I know Tessa,” Daesal responded. “If you arrange a meeting, she will see me, and I believe she will help us.” Jedia had eventually agreed, although Stegar could see he had questions, questions that Stegar was sure Jedia was going to continue to poke at as time went on.
The next day, they had boarded the Fair Elaine, a Kethem light merchant traveling to Bythe, along with Padan and Jedia. The tent-temple in Nol had a teleport pad, but Jedia had rejected any suggestion of using it. “Teleports are for messengers and emergencies. This is neither,” he had said. Nyjha had stayed behind for purposes unknown. Stegar missed the scrappy little Ibisi, but he would do little good in Kethem. Staying with his own people made sense. Helping Jedia against demons… less so.
After a restless sleep, true slumber escaping him in the tossing and turning of the ship, Stegar was out on the deck. Salt spray whipped over the guardrail into Stegar’s face, but he barely noticed it. Staring at the horizon took the edge off the queasiness that always accompanied sea travel, but it didn’t distract him from his thoughts, which continued to loop in a never ending spiral of doubt and confusion.
“You do not approve,” said Daesal from behind him, her approach covered by the crash of the waves against the front of the ship. Daesal stepped up until she was standing next to him against the rail, looking out to sea. He continued to stare at the horizon.
“It is not my place to approve or disapprove of your decisions,” said Stegar.
“I am not your master. You have every right to question my decisions. You have every right to make your own.”
Stegar shrugged. “Daesal, as long as you do not turn me away, I will follow you. I may advise you, or I may argue another side of an issue to give you a sounding board. When you have decided, I am behind you. It is that simple.”
Daesal sighed. “And yet I do sense a certain recalcitrance on your part to the path we are taking.”
Stegar closed his eyes, they quickly opened them again when his stomach gave a lurch. “I am worried about your safety. I’ve read some history, Daesal. I know what Sambhal was before he became a god, and beings with that kind of power are not to be trifled with. Offering to help Jedia find out what they are after is the same as crossing Sambhal’s ilk. It is not…prudent,” he finished.
Daesal did not respond for a moment. Stegar glanced at her. She seemed deep in thought. He returned his eyes to the distant horizon and waited. Finally she said “There are risks. Risks I am not asking you to take. I have a reason I am willing to do this. That I have to do this. But it is personal. I …” and she stopped, which made Stegar a little sad, because he had hoped the bond between them would allow her to speak openly.
“Yes,” said Stegar. “You think you are somehow associated with these demons, possibly even half-demon yourself.”
Daesal was still. Then she said “Yes. How did you know?”
Stegar shrugged. “I know you have abilities beyond those available to normal humans. I know you’ve been searching for answers to your past, ones you could not find at your Hold. I know you felt something in that cave, and you mentioned the footprints matched the description of Sambhal’s original form. You were interested in the great troll books that described the meetings between the great trolls and the demons. I guessed even then you suspected some link between your past and these creatures. Now you know that there is some direct connection between our world and theirs by way of the Sambhal clergy. It was not hard to put the pieces of the puzzle together.”
He did not look at her, but he knew Daesal was frowning. She said, “Do the others know?”
Stegar shrugged again. “I have not asked. I think Grim might. He’s been curious about you since you revealed your darksight. But Grim is a keeper of secrets. I do not think he will speak of it even if he has come to the same conclusion. Gyeong and Nyjha, I think, are too impeded by cultural differences, and Hantlin doesn’t seem like someone who would put the pieces together.”
Daesal laughed humorlessly. “And what do you think, Stegar the wise?”
Stegar smiled. “I think you should not call me that.” He could feel her gaze on him. “I think it does not matter. You are Daesal. You are who you are. I trust you. It is enough for me.”
“And for the others?”
“I cannot speak for them, but I suspect they would or do feel the same. We have depended on each other for our lives. That bond is hard to break.”
Daesal was quiet for a time. Then she said, “Thank you. I hope I am worthy of your trust. But now you know why I must see this through. You do not have to be a part of it. You can walk away, and I would not blame you. It is the smart thing to do.”
Stegar nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps, perhaps not. You need to know about your past. I need to have something to believe in, a cause to make life worth living. We choose our paths, and those that always choose the safe, the easy, the path of least resistance, those are the ones I feel sorry for. At the end, all they can say is that they created no mark, left nothing to show their time in the world. I do not call that living. I call it passing time.”
Daesal laughed, and this time it was an honest laugh. “Be careful, or you will be stuck with Stegar the Wise as a moniker. I will certainly not try to dissuade you from helping me with this task. My path is fraught with uncertainty, and I could not ask for someone better to have at my back in such treacherous terrain.”
Stegar glanced at her again. She was looking out over the waves, and she seemed peaceful and centered. He looked back at the horizon. “Do you truly think you can find out more from this Sambhal priestess, or is this a long shot taken because there are no better options?”
Daesal hesitated. “I will tell you. Please do not share this.” Stegar nodded. “I do,” she continued. “There is one other ability I have that I have not demonstrated yet, one that is the reason I set out on this quest in the first place.” She stopped again for a moment, then continued as if struggling to force the words out. “When I was old enough to assume a position in the hold, I was focused on it. I had little in the wa
y of … companionship when I was younger, and my parents became concerned I would never be interested in marriage. Which might have been true, but to appease them, I went out with a young man. On our second date, he became somewhat aggressive about kissing me.”
Stegar’s eyebrows went up. “And you injured him?”
Daesal laughed. “If only I had. No, I had observed enough to know this was likely, even probable. To be honest, I welcomed it, because I was not sure I was responding the way I should to his advances. It meant I had attracted him, which was the goal, you understand. But when we kissed, there was a reaction.”
Stegar frowned. “There is supposed to be, you know.”
Daesal shook her head. “Not the typical reaction. Quite the opposite. He became docile and open to suggestion. Like he had been drugged. When I realized what had happened, I told him to remember that we had kissed, that it had been unpleasant, and that he was uninterested in me. And that is what he remembered. From then on, I have avoided those kind of situations. But unlike the dark sight and the sense of smell, which I could pretend were merely unusually keen senses, this told me that I was not fully human.”
Stegar said, “And this happens when you touch someone?”
Daesal replied, “No, it takes more than that. I can kiss someone on the lips with no effect. I think it has something to do with my saliva.”
Stegar thought for a moment. “And you plan on using this capability on the Sambhal priestess. I see. But that would require the support of the Chikal? This woman, Tessa?”
Daesal nodded. “It does, but I do know Tessa. And the fact that she told Jedia what she did... there would be no reason to do that if she was a part of it. I feel confident she will see me and assist us.”