Quest Call

by Kirk Dougal

  “What happened?” I thought I could see where this story was headed, and my stomach lurched, but I had to ask.

  “So, the time was quickly approaching for the sisters to assume the duties of their new lives. Yemaya's betrothed had almost reached marrying age and Oshun was nearly old enough to enter the temple. Yemaya knew she had to move quickly. She had taken the secrets Oshun had shared with her and delved deep into the magic, no longer walking through the streets where the people could worship her beauty, never visiting the court where she would learn the ways of rule. She lived in the libraries and scroll rooms deep in the palace, growing pale without the sun touching her face.” I nodded remembering Yemaya's pale skin when I met her in the Red Boar. Grol finished his glass of arak and poured another.

  “She found an ancient scroll,” he continued. “One with the blackest of magics that showed her a way to have her dream, to live forever with her youth and beauty, stealing the power of the next Holy Mother. But the biggest prize called for the biggest price. Yemaya must sacrifice someone close to her, family, who was still pure.”

  “She killed her own sister.” The words tumbled from my mouth. I was glad we had not eaten anything since lunch or its remains might have followed.

  Grol nodded. “Yes, one night, with the moon full above her in the sky above the palace, she gave a drug to Oshun and lay her sister under the sky. She used her dark magic to kill Oshun and steal her life force, sealing her own immortality. The queen found them, and in a fit of despair, threw herself from the parapet. When the king was told what had happened, he ordered Yemaya put to death, but she was already gone. Knowing that if she was ever discovered, Yemaya left Zamani, never to return. To ensure this would always remain true, the king asked the Holy Mother to put a spell over the land so that if Yemaya ever set foot in Zamani again, she would suffer the same fate as Oshun, to feel her life being sucked from her body and given to another. In his grief, the king built the Golden Tower to hold Oshun's body, to remind the people she had been sacrificed to save the power of the Temple of the Holy Virgin.”

  “And the king?” I asked. “Does he still mourn his wife and daughter?”

  Grol stared at me for a moment, and then laughed, throwing his head back. “On the first night of the Golden Tower's completion, he sat down beside the tomb. In the morning, the Holy Mothers found his body, the golden sun gem of his religion clutched in his dead hand.” He chuckled again. “But the king's been dead for centuries. Yemaya killed Oshun more than three hundred years ago.”

  I blinked and glanced down at my mug. First the revelation about the terrorists, and now, the story behind Yemaya and Oshun, my thoughts were spinning through my head and leaving me dizzy. I hoped there would be no more surprises today.

  “Thank you, Grol.” I pushed the gold pieces closer to him. “I think you've told me everything I need to know.”

  “And why did you need to know, my friend?”

  I stuck to my back story.

  “I'm a Searcher,” I said. “Rumors of the tale of Oshun have reached the Temples of Dziewona, and the Oracle sent me to find out the truth of the stories.” I stood. Bree popped up as soon as I moved, swinging her legs over the bench and walking to my side. “Thank you for the tale.”

  The smile dipped on the edges of Grol's mouth. This time it did not return.

  “Is that all you wish to discuss today?” he asked. “I had hoped we might have interest in some mutual business.”

  “Not today,” I said, bowing my head. “I must return to my friends and tell them what I have learned. I turned and walked back out into the sun, the heat hitting me like a ghostly wall. Bree was beside me, close enough that I could feel her arm brushing mine with each step.

  “What's wrong?” I asked. “I'm just as upset as you about what Yemaya did, but aren't you taking the whole story too hard?”

  Bree glared at me and moved away. Only then did I notice her right hand was on the hilt of her sword, her knuckles white from the grip.

  “Didn't you see what Stitch was holding?” Her words were clipped short.

  I thought back but all I remembered was his twirling a leather loop around his hand. I had been so interested in gaining the information we needed about Yemaya and Oshun, I had almost forgotten about it.

  “No,” I answered. “What was it?”

  “A leather collar. I've seen them on some of the servants here.” She paused. “I think they are worn by slaves.”

  The breath leaped out me, Grol's words and actions taking on whole new meanings. Before I could bring myself to speak again, however, my attention was drawn by a man running up the street toward us. When he was close enough, I saw it was Card.

  “Beast, come quick!” He gulped at the air, red robe dark with sweat. “DeBrest never slept in his bed last night. He's gone!”

  Chapter 34

  Card started to explain about DeBrest, but I grabbed his elbow and forced him into a fast walk back the way he had just traveled. When he tried to speak again, I quieted him with a glare, not wanting anyone nearby to overhear. The sun was sinking and the streets were beginning to fill as the heat dropped. We had lots of information to discuss but not in public, especially anywhere near the warehouses and Grol. Even though I was desperate to know more, I knew it needed to wait.

  We were almost back to the Lion and the Lamb when Card groaned, his face twisted. His next two steps were disjointed, stopping and starting, his movements like watching a video with parts of it missing and stitched back together. He stumbled and almost fell.

  “Card!” I grabbed his elbow, but he felt odd, one moment flesh and muscle, and the next, as rigid as sculpted stone. “What's wrong?”

  He grunted, eyes squeezed shut. “I think the owner's trying to take control. Fi…fighting him off…trying.” Card's eyes snapped open, a long breath releasing into the sweltering afternoon. “They gave up. I've got control again.”

  Our inn finally loomed up on our left, and we ducked into the doorway, Card leading the way with Bree, and I right behind him. A few seconds later, we burst into DeBrest's room, only to find Saleene standing by the window, her face flushed red.

  “Did you find him?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  Card shook his head but hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I found them, though. Down near the warehouses, like we thought.”

  “So what's going on?” I asked. “Where's DeBrest?”

  “I'll be damned if I know,” Card said. Saleene could only shake her head, too angry to speak. Bree went to her and whispered, rubbing a hand across her shoulders.

  “Look here,” Card continued. “His bed hasn't been slept in.”

  I stared at the wooden structure. The thin mattress was still flat and the blanket covering it remained smooth except for where DeBrest's pack had been tossed onto the end. I glanced over at the chair by the wall. When Card and I had half-dragged the drunk young man back to his room the night before, we sat him on the chair after leaning his sword and shield against the wall with the bear-inscribed greaves hanging over the quillons, shaking our heads in amusement as he struggled to take his boots off. That was where we had left him.

  “His boots are gone, too,” I said, noticing the other items still leaning against the wall.

  Card started swearing in Spanish, his voice low enough that I could not hear all the words.

  “You don't think he went…” Saleene's words hung in the air.

  “Oh, shit.” Realization slapped me across the face, stinging me into action. “You two stay here. Card, I think Saleene's right. I know where DeBrest went.”

  *****

  Soft music wound around Card and I as we entered the The Lonely Oasis, cutting under men and women laughing. Incense also filled the air, and my nose itched for a moment before the fragrance seeped into my skin, relaxing me in a way that my mind was not ready to accept. My hand clenched into a fist, fingernails biting into my palm, pain and anger fighting back the drug.

  I followed the v
oices into a large meeting room, slipping through strung beads that hung to the floor, leaving them swaying for Card. I knew he was right behind me because, a second later, I heard him cough, clearing his throat at the scene in front of us. Divans and cushions were scattered throughout the large area, many of them occupied by men and women. All of them were in some stage of undress, mumbling or writhing against one another. I quickly noticed all of the women either had very short hair or long hair that was free flowing, not a braid or tie back in sight. Thanks to Bree's attentiveness earlier, I also noticed that almost all of them wore leather collars, some decorated with small jewels and tooling and others plain. That brought Grol back into my thoughts, a place I did not want him right now.

  Three women approached us, one wearing nothing but a blue silk scarf tied around her waist. Two grabbed onto Card's arms and began to drag him toward an empty couch, his mouth opened in disbelief. The third latched onto me, curling a leg around mine and rubbing her breasts against me. She hung there for a moment, my thoughts jumbling beneath her nearness and the wisps of drug still floating into my nose. I squeezed my hand hard enough to draw blood and then shrugged her off. The woman stumbled back, nearly falling over a pillow in her surprise.

  An older woman appeared at a door near the rear of the room, her high-necked dress and overly long sleeves covering every part of her body except for her face. I noticed that her hair was held up in a piled braid on top of her head.

  “Well met, young warrior,” she said as she approached, each word a soothing balm, quenching the heat of my anger. “If Malain does not please you, we have many other women who would be happy to share your company. Or perhaps your tastes run in a different fashion. A younger girl, perhaps? Ah, or perhaps a young man?”

  This time, I did not need to remind myself to remain angry. Knowing that most of the people in this room were slaves forced to do whatever their owner, this woman, wanted was enough to keep the fire raging.

  “I'm not here for your services.” My memories brought up Grol's words of warning about the penalties for insulting someone's honor in Zamani. My blood cooled by a few degrees, my jaw working free. “Madam, were are looking for a member of our party who may have been here last night but did not return to our inn. We're worried about him.”

  “We have many men who come through the doors of The Lonely Oasis,” she said. “I would not pretend to remember them all. And some of them would not want to be remembered.”

  “You'd remember this one,” Card said. He stepped beside me, and I wondered how he untangled himself from the two women. “He's young and had way too much arak last night.”

  The smile on the woman's face slipped, her lips falling into a thin line. “Describe your friend.”

  “Young, blond, sparse beard, about this tall…”

  “He was here,” the woman said, cutting me off. “He had no honor. He insulted me, insulted my girls, insulted the roof over his head. I run a respectable business, sanctioned by the law's court. He had no right.” Her voice rose at the end, enough that a few of the men glanced up from the women around them and stared at us.

  My heart skipped a beat and then pounded faster. It felt like every time this day moved, a new surprise was thrown into my face. So far, not very many of them were good.

  “I'm sure he was in the wrong, Madam,” I said. “But he is young, as we all have been, and needs time to learn patience and respect.”

  She laughed but no humor rode on the chuckle, her eyes still hard and unblinking.

  “He'll have plenty of time to learn those things now,” she said. “The city guard took him away to the constable's prison. He'll rot in there until my honor has been restored.”

  Chapter 35

  “Men! Every one of you thinks with the wrong head!” Saleene scooped up the chair and flung it against the back wall of DeBrest's room.

  Card and I had remained at The Lonely Oasis for most of the afternoon, trying to talk the owner into changing her mind. We had finally even taken the step of offering her money to see if gold would smooth over her pride. I was half-afraid the offer would be another affront and Card and I would be joining DeBrest in the prison. Instead, she had simply turned us down flat, marching off through the doorway from where she had entered. I was so desperate I tried to follow but as soon as she was out of sight, a man walked in, looming a head and a half over me and twice as wide, his arms hanging out of his sleeveless vest with biceps like two great hams. His arms crossed over his equally massive chest and we had retreated, making our way back to the inn and Saleene and Bree. They were not surprised to learn what we had heard but that did not lessen their anger.

  “What did you learn about Oshun's tomb?” I asked, changing the subject.

  Saleene's head jerked up, her lips pressed tight.

  “You're going to leave the duke in prison?” Bree asked.

  “Not if I can help it,” I said. “But I've got to think of our priorities.”

  Card nodded. “We'll do whatever we can, but we need to remember that the terrorists are really killing people, not inside a game but in the outside world.”

  Saleene stared at me for several seconds, her chest rising and falling. Slowly, she nodded her head and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Oshun's crypt is inside the Golden Tower,” she said. “It's marble and it's stunning. I can't even imagine how much it cost because I doubt there are any marble mines in Zamani. People were filing through the tower the entire time we were there. It's like some kind of pilgrimage that everyone tries to make at least once before they die. They wait in line just to touch the crypt as if it will provide a blessing.”

  “We talked to a few of the people,” Card said, nodding his head in agreement. “One man carried his sick daughter from their village for two weeks, just to allow the girl to touch the marble in the hope it would heal her. Others left gifts, remembrances of dead loved ones, prayed for hours on their knees. It was, frankly, it was an unbelievable sign of faith.”

  “So can we get the heart?” My anger at DeBrest spilled over at their gushing about the tomb. We were here to catch terrorists, not admire a made-up princess's crypt. “Your description of the crowds make it sound like we are going to need to take it at night.”

  “We'll definitely need to make our move at night,” Saleene said. “But that's not all.” She paused. “There aren't any guards or priests posted on Oshun's tomb.”

  I stared at her for several seconds before glancing at Card. He merely shrugged in response.

  “How can they not have guards at the tomb of the beloved symbol of their religion?” I asked. “That doesn't make any sense.” A thought leaped forward. “What aren't you telling me?

  “There's no door on the tomb,” Saleene said. “All four sides are solid marble. They built it around her sarcophagus after the Golden Tower was completed. At least, that's what some of the pilgrims told us.”

  “But that's not all,” Card said, his forehead scrunched. “There's something else, something I could almost see but was more of a gut feeling.”

  “Magic?” I asked.

  “I think so,” he said. “I think there's some sort of spell to help protect the tomb.”

  We all sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Saleene sighed.

  “Maybe if we knew more about what happened to Oshun, then we could understand how to get to her body.”

  I told them what Bree and I had learned from Grol about Yemaya and Oshun and how the younger sister died.

  “That explains a lot,” Saleene said, “but I'm not sure it helps us get into the tomb.”

  “No, but it gives us a warning.” Card was feeding the stones on the leather string through his hand, thumb moving it across his forefinger. I do not think I would have looked at the dull red rocks twice if they were lying on the ground, but even with the late afternoon sun pouring through the window, I could see the hints of blue haze around their edges, telling me they were much more than regular pebbles.

  “Two
sisters, both who could use magic,” he continued. “One kills the other in order to live forever. Everything about Yemaya and Oshun has revolved around magic. Dark, ugly magic.”

  “Grol is a slaver,” Bree said, breaking her silence but causing Saleene and Card to stare with their mouths open at the statement. “How much darker and uglier can it get than that?”

  “He did everything but beg me to sell them Bree,” I said with a nod. “But we can't worry about that right now, either. Grol is like DeBrest. If we can do something about them, we will. In the meantime, we need to find a way into Oshun's tomb.”

  This time the silence went on for a while, stretching out long enough that I finally tired of pacing back and forth and sat down on the floor, my back against the wall.

  “Card, you're a war wizard,” I said. “There's got to be a way for you to smash a hole in that marble.”

  “It depends on how thick it is but, yes, I'm sure I can break in. But should I? I'm sensing danger, something we assume is magical. What if it's a kind of boomerang spell? So whatever I throw at it bounces back. It could kill me or damage Oshun's body.”

  “I'm not worried about Oshun,” I said. “It must have taken years to build the Golden Tower after she died and Zamani is a desert country. Her body had to be prepared in a way that it would not rot before it was put into the crypt.”

  “Mummification?” Saleene asked. “You think they made her into a mummy.”

  I nodded. “Yes, but more importantly, as part of making a body a mummy, they remove the internal organs. My guess is that her heart is stored in the sarcophagus with the rest of her body, probably in some sort of ceremonial jar.”

  “Once we get into the tomb,” Card said, “it may be as simple as just grabbing the jar and running.”

  “Go back to the Golden Tower again tomorrow. Spend all day there if you need to but look for a weakness in the tomb.” I looked at the two women. “Saleene, you and I will try to find a way to free DeBrest. Maybe we can pay a fine or bribe the right person, but we need to find a way. From what the woman at The Lonely Oasis said, the prison is out of town, past the warehouses. We'll go there tomorrow morning.”