“I have suspicions. But the most important thing is to stop it happening again. We don’t want violence in Kradja.”
“Certainly not.”
“I’d like to expand the sentinels. More soldiers. More patrols.”
Ciamon nodded. “Yes. Sure. Whatever you think necessary.”
“I’ll see to it. And I’ll give orders to trace the healers and get them to reopen the infirmary.” Sefriall paused as if thinking. “Shall I also ask for volunteers to be instructed in medicine?”
“Yes.” Ciamon beamed at his deputy. “That sounds great.”
“I’ll see to it at once.” Sefriall bowed and left the room.
Ciamon leaned forward to refill his glass, then settled back on the couch. “Do you remember the day we persuaded Riko that the goose was really her tutor, checking up on her?”
Jemeryl nodded and also lifted her glass, but her mood for reminiscing had faded.
*
Tevi sketched in another few lines, adding to the map that Parrash had given to her. With each day, the diagram was becoming more convoluted, especially since it had to work in three dimensions. Describing the secret passages as a maze was no exaggeration, and mapping every section would take ages. However, the ability to move wherever she wanted, unseen and unhindered, gave Tevi a nice feeling of reassurance, and the work might deliver some practical benefit, once Jemeryl had sorted out how to attack the idol. Besides, Tevi had nothing better to do with her time. As a bonus, just possibly she would overhear something of note—or not.
“My feet are killing me, and I’ve got a blister.” The amplified voice drifted through the passageway.
“I had a blister last week.”
“Which foot?”
“Left.”
“Mine’s on the right.”
“Oh.”
All of which was a fair example of what Tevi had overheard to date. The sentinels and priests did not lead the most exciting of lives. Then Tevi heard another voice that immediately caught her attention—Jemeryl’s.
“I’ll join you for dinner.”
Tevi backtracked a few steps to a spyhole that provided a view of a tiled hallway. Midway along it, Jemeryl stood talking to Ciamon outside an open doorway. Presumably they had just emerged from the room behind them.
“Great. I’ll send someone to let you know when we’re ready to eat.”
“Thanks. See you later.” Jemeryl patted his arm and then turned away.
The stab of jealousy was more than a twinge. Not that Tevi thought of Ciamon as any sort of rival over Jemeryl. Their body language was of old friends, and nothing more. But she would so much like to be the one having dinner with Jemeryl that night. Months had gone by since the last time they had been able to share food and idle conversation—chatting about what they had done during the day, funny stories and plans. Tevi missed the simple domestic routines, a casual touch in passing, waking with Jemeryl’s face beside her, knowing at the end of a hard day that someone could be counted on to sympathise.
Tevi’s eyes turned to Ciamon, as she tried yet again to work out how she felt. Imagining him and Jemeryl as adolescent sweethearts was odd. Despite Jemeryl’s assertion that he was a good man, Tevi did not feel any warmth towards him. Was it jealousy? He was a touch overdramatic, hopelessly naïve, and weirdly insipid, but there was nothing Tevi could pick out to condemn in him, apart from the fact that he was planing on destroying all known civilisation.
Ciamon returned to the room and shut the door. Jemeryl reached the end of the hall and vanished around the corner. Tevi sighed. The brief exchange put an end to any idea of sneaking into Jemeryl’s room, even for a few moments. She had no idea when dinner might be and dared not risk being caught by whoever Ciamon sent with the summons. Feeling more than a little despondent, Tevi made her way out of the tunnels.
Late afternoon sunlight washed over the streets of Kradja when she emerged from the temple, dusting the scene with gold. For once, the town seemed safe and unremarkable. Street traders shouted, a wagon piled with sacks rumbled by, and dogs sniffed at piles of refuse while a lazy cat watched from a window ledge. Only the mud brick walls and sand on the road marked Kradja as in any way different from dozens of other towns Tevi knew.
But Kradja was not the same, not at the moment, and the differences went deeper than details of mud brick and sand. Tevi turned a corner. Ahead of her, a hysterical preacher stood on a rickety chair, screeching at a growing crowd. Behind him were burnt-out houses. The listeners were silent in a way that was more frightening than a riot. Stains on the ground at their feet could only be blood, and half buried in the debris were the unmistakable shapes of corpses with blackened, peeling skin. Why had nobody taken them away for burial? Did no one care?
Like a shape-shifting parasite from legend, a monster had infested Kradja, absorbed and usurped the town. Now it wore the face of Kradja—but beneath the façade? How long before the monster fully revealed itself? And what would happen then? Tevi shivered, cold, despite the desert sun.
It was with a feeling of relief that Tevi reached her room in the Four Winds House, but the second she stepped through the door the tension returned. Someone had been in her room, and it was not just an innocent visit by inn staff. The signs were small, but unmistakable. Her bedding was neater than she had left it. The belt hanging from her sword, propped in the corner, was twisted. The corner of her cloak was peeking from her footlocker. Tevi lifted the lid to push it back in, and froze. Inside the chest, the signs were even more obvious. From what Tevi could see, most of the items had been taken out and then dumped back in, haphazardly.
Why? Simple theft did not seem likely. Her sword was valuable—far more so than might be thought at a simple examination. It was a rune-sword, crafted to harmonise with temporal currents. Yet even without knowing this, a thief would surely have taken the weapon. Well-made swords were easy-to-sell items.
The rooms at Four Winds House were all unlocked, but the inn was never empty, and the layout made it difficult for an intruder to sneak in, unseen. Someone had to know something about who had been there, and Tevi had a good idea who that someone was. She went in search of Raf.
The innkeeper was shovelling refuse in the stable when Tevi found her. Raf glanced up sharply at her approach but then went back to her work. “Can I help you?”
“Someone’s been in my room.”
“Have they?” Raf sounded nonchalantly indifferent.
“They searched it.”
“Oh. Anything stolen?”
Tevi folded her arms. “Not that I can see. Who was it?”
“How should I know?”
Tevi put her foot on the head of the broom. “Who was it?”
“I…” Raf’s voice died at the sight of the expression on Tevi’s face. “Er…yeah. It was your friend.”
“My friend?”
“He said he wanted to talk to you. Asked to wait in your room.”
“And you let him?”
“He looked honest.”
Tevi remembered how Siashe had introduced the innkeeper. “How much did he pay you?”
Raf hesitated, as if debating whether she should deny the implication, but then gave a weak smile. “Just a small tip.”
“If I double it, will you describe him to me?”
Raf grinned. “Of course. A tall guy, bit overweight. Thirty or so. Used to be a priest at the temple. I think his sister owns a baker’s shop near here.”
Chapter Six—Conspiracies
A series of questions skittered around in Tevi’s head as she jogged through the streets, bound for the bakery. What had Parrash been looking for? And what, if anything, had he found? Had someone told him to do it, or had he been acting of his own volition? If the priests had searched her room the day after she made contact, Tevi would have understood it. But why wait until now? Had something changed? Was Parrash putting a plan into action that had not been discussed at the meeting?
The last question was the one prompting Tevi
to challenge Parrash immediately rather than wait and see what came next. Under Darjain’s leadership, the ousted priests were utterly ineffectual. While Tevi understood Alkoan’s frustration, she did not want him and his faction doing anything rash.
Tevi needed the answers quickly, which should not prove too difficult once she found Parrash. He struck her as someone who would buckle when threatened, and in the circumstances, Tevi felt a show of anger was justified. With luck, she would catch him at his sister’s bakery without Alkoan or other supporters on hand to back him up.
As it turned out, Tevi reached the final corner just in time to see Parrash shoot from the door and scuttle off in the opposite direction, head down and shoulders hunched, as if afraid that retribution was about to fall on him from the sky. He had taken no time to look around and Tevi was sure he had not spotted her on the busy street. Parrash was not fleeing from her approach and he was definitely up to something. After allowing him a little more of a lead, Tevi followed.
Parrash headed back towards the centre of Kradja and the main town square. The sun was low on the horizon and the market was starting to wind down for the day when they arrived. The crowds around the wild preachers were thinning, but most traders still had their wares set out. Tevi had assumed that Parrash would bypass the stalls and go straight to the temple, but instead he stopped at one—a herbalist, fully stocked with bundles of dried leafs and bottles of liquid. Tevi attached herself to a nearby audience around a preacher to observe.
“What can I do for you?” the trader called from the rear of her stall, where she was measuring powder into a jar.
Parrash mumbled in reply, his voice too low for Tevi to make out. The trader promptly put down the jar and beckoned him to a strongbox behind her stall. Although the box was clearly designed for security, it was not locked. The trader tugged open the lid and pulled out a couple of items for inspection. Parrash pointed to the one he wanted.
But what was it?
Parrash was manifestly nervous and trying to hide it. Tevi could see his shoulders shaking with the effort to not look behind every few seconds. His feet were twitching in his boots. His back was as stiff as a plank. He was having to haggle over the cost, and anyone could see he did not want to. He would rather have paid the asking price and been off, but that would be too blatantly suspicious. The minutes he was forced to stand must have been agony, although Tevi could not bring herself to feel much in the way of sympathy. At last, he paid the money, received a small pouch, and hurried off, his route heading straight for the main temple gates.
Tevi had not been close enough to hear what he asked for. Now she was torn. Should she follow him, or should she question the trader? The quick, common sense answer was that if Parrash was going to the temple, then the secret passages were surely his goal. Following him without being seen and heard would be difficult, and the chances were that she would lose him in the dark. Much easier to wait for him to come out, which gave her plenty of time for the trader.
Tevi trotted up to the stall. “Did he buy the cinnamon?”
The trader looked confused. “Pardon?”
“Parrash. He was here just now. I work for his sister. I’m supposed to get an ounce of cinnamon. But stupid me has gone and left the money behind. Then I spotted him here. I don’t want to go all the way to the bakery and back if he’s already got it.”
“No. He was buying the dog button extract.”
Tevi frowned. “I didn’t think we used that in the bread.”
“I’d hope not. It’s to poison the rats in your cellar.”
“Oh. Right. About time someone dealt with the little buggers.” Tevi tried not to look shocked. “Fine. I’ll be back with the money shortly, then.”
“You better hurry. I’m about to shut up shop.”
Tevi raced for the temple. Undoubtedly there were rats in the cellar from time to time. What grain store did not suffer from them? And Parrash’s sister might well want to poison any there were. However, Tevi was sure that Parrash had not bought the dog button extract to deal with any vermin infestation, and certainly not one in the temple. His true plans for the poison were very easy to work out. She had to stop him.
Alkoan wanted to kill Ciamon, and despite what had been agreed with the others, he was not willing to wait any longer. He must have talked Parrash into buying and planting the poison. The neophyte priest would never have the initiative to do it on his own. Parrash was clearly nervous and unhappy, but from what he had already said, he admired Alkoan and was out of patience with Darjain. Tevi still had no idea how searching her room fitted into the plot, but she suspected she would not like the answer when she found out.
The sentinels on duty meant that Tevi dared not run in the main hall, but neither could Parrash. Although she saw no sign of him, he should not be too far ahead. Tevi stopped and listened as soon as she was inside the secret passage. The sounds of someone moving away were faint and hard to pinpoint, but surely Parrash would be heading for Ciamon’s quarters. Tevi made what haste she could in pursuit. The narrow, twisted passages were not designed for speed, though she should do better than the heavily built man. She ought to overtake him—providing she did not get lost.
Tevi reached a junction where she had to make a decision. Left or right? Despite hopes to have gained on Parrash, when she listened she could hear no footsteps or scuffing to guide her. Had he realised that he was being followed? Might it frighten him into abandoning the assassination attempt? Tevi certainly could not rely on it.
Two exits from the tunnels were near the High Priest’s rooms. One was in a corridor leading to his study. The other was directly into his bedchamber. The bedchamber had to be the safer bet. In the early evening, the room was most likely unoccupied, and any fare laid out would be for Ciamon’s consumption alone.
However, when Tevi reached the spyhole for the bedchamber, the room was empty. It was also devoid of any food or drink the poison could have been added to. She closed her eyes, concentrating all her attention on her ears, but could hear nothing to indicate that Parrash was either soon to arrive or had recently left the room.
Urgently, Tevi backtracked along the passage, going from spyhole to spyhole, searching for Parrash, Jemeryl, or Ciamon himself. If she could not stop Parrash putting the poison into something, at least she could give a warning.
The sixth spyhole gave a view of a small chamber next to Ciamon’s study. Two lamps hung from the ceiling, lighting the room softly. A meal was laid out on a knee-high table, surrounded by multicoloured silk cushions. Causal low-level dining was traditional in Kradja. Tevi peeked through just in time to see Parrash emptying the pouch’s contents into a wine carafe.
“Parrash. Don’t!” Tevi shouted and thumped on the wall.
The stone must have muffled the sound, but Parrash clearly heard something. He flinched and glanced towards the spyhole.
“Stop!”
If Parrash heard and recognised the command, he chose to ignore it. His initial expression of fear eased into one that was more satisfied than guilty. Even though his hands were shaking, he continued resolutely, repositioning the carafe in the middle of the table, and tossing the empty pouch away.
“It won’t do any good.” Tevi might as well have not spoken.
Parrash pulled something else from his pocket, threw it with the pouch under the table and then scurried from the room.
Tevi felt as if her blood had turned to ice. Jemeryl was due to join Ciamon for dinner and would also drink the wine. The memory of the brief conversation Tevi had overheard kept playing through her head. How long did she have? How long before Jemeryl arrived? She had to warn them. The exit by Ciamon’s study was a long way off, through the circuitous maze of tunnels. Tevi set off, taking three steps in an awkward sideways lope, and then stopped. She did not have to be in the room. Once Jemeryl and Ciamon appeared she could shout to them.
Tevi shuffled back to the spyhole. Minutes trickled by before the door again opened. Tevi opened her mouth, o
nly to close it when, instead of Jemeryl and Ciamon, three musicians entered, carrying flute, lute, and bodhrán. They sat to one side and started tuning their instruments. The sound barely permeated the thick stone. Tevi had to press her ear against the wall to hear the practice notes. Her shouts and thumps got no response. Once the musicians started playing in earnest, nobody in the room stood any chance of hearing her.
Jemeryl might arrive at any second. Tevi scrambled along the passage, banging her knees and elbows in her haste. Her frantic footwork stirred up the dust of centuries, making her cough. At one point she cracked her head on a protruding joist, hidden in the darkness. Her shirt tore on a nail in passing.
She reached the exit and felt for the lever, but nothing happened when she tugged. More frantic yanking was also fruitless. The hatch did not open. Tevi crouched and felt around. Was there another catch? Or had Parrash sabotaged this one in some way? The light was too weak to see and Tevi did not have another second to waste.
The wooden hatch was made of heavy timber. Most people would need an axe to get through it. However, Tevi’s body had been permanently modified by the potion she had taken as a girl. She stood, turned sideways, and kicked with as much force as the cramped space allowed. On the third thump she heard splintering. On the fifth, the wood gave way completely. A sixth final shove and the panel fell out, allowing in more light. Tevi dived through.
The sound of her demolishing the hatch had already attracted attention. Tevi heard shouts as she emerged into the corridor. Two elderly priests stood at the end, pointing at her and screeching. A servant’s head was sticking from a doorway, also looking in her direction. Of more concern were the two armed sentinels outside the door to the room where dinner had been laid out. They were advancing towards her, drawing their swords. Tevi was outnumbered and outarmed. The small dagger she carried would be no use, but her own risk counted for nothing. The only thought in Tevi’s head was that if guards were outside the room, it could only mean that Ciamon, and possibly Jemeryl, were inside. She did not have time for explanations.
The High Priest and the Idol Page 12