Temple of the Traveler: Empress of Dreams

by Scott Rhine

  “What do we do?” asked Simon, breathing erratically.

  “I want to place him under the lens array and see what happens.”

  Simon flung the door open and ran back to the main house. When he ran into the kitchen, the first person he encountered was the ambassador. He shouted, “Your husband is mad!”

  Close behind his father, Brent added, “And a genius. Maybe he can help me build that catapult from the Book of Dominion.”

  Pouring tea calmly into a cup, she said, “He’s not my husband yet.”

  The builder sputtered, “That’s all you have to say? Tashi—”

  “I know,” she said. “He tells me everything.”

  “Aren’t you going to do something?” Simon demanded.

  She watched Pinetto trudging slowly back to the house. “I’ll handle it. Go. Tell no one else.” She set out a piece of leftover tart for her lover.

  The builder left for his own wing and barred the door.

  When Pinetto returned, he removed his muddy boots at the door, donning house slippers instead. He saw the dessert and his face lit up. After he pulled up a chair, he asked, “What’s the occasion?”

  “I just returned from a meeting with the king.”

  From her tone, he guessed, “Bad news?”

  “Your friend, the smith, isn’t coming back,” she said softly, sliding the cup of tea over to him.

  “How . . . how do you know?”

  “The refugees. Some of them watched from a distance. The smith killed the monster that was chasing us. He sacrificed himself to protect us all.”

  Unable to blink or close his mouth, he could only shake his head and moan the word, “No.”

  She stood beside him and held his head against her chest. “Several people confirmed: the gods built a shrine to him to commemorate the battle.”

  He wept in silence for his best friend, for the horrible fate that had found him, and lastly for the perverse sense of relief. Pinetto could sleep soundly now without having to post wards and sentries for the rest of his life, afraid that the person next to him might sprout an extra set of arms. Mostly, he cried because he hated himself for being so glad he had survived.

  Chapter 13 – Experiments

  The next morning, everyone else had tasks outside, and the convalescing Pinetto was left alone with Tashi again. Eventually, the wizard told the half-troll about his many adventures with Baran Togg and his friend’s heroic death.

  When the wizard paused, unable to find more words, Tashi said softly, “He was a trustworthy soul and a good man to have at your back in a battle.”

  “He was the best friend I ever had,” Pinetto lamented.

  “I’ve lost every man I’ve called friend.”

  “I guess, since you’re a former member of the Brotherhood of Executioners and there aren’t any more priests of the Traveler. Don’t you have family or friends outside work?”

  “I keep to myself. You’re more outgoing. I’ve seen you with Simon.”

  “He thinks I’m crazy . . . the locals do, too. Frankly, I don’t trust him around Sajika. Every woman around flirts with him because he’s so distinguished, rich, handy, and . . .”

  “The poor man just lost his wife. Yeah. I hear that one three times a day,” Tashi commiserated. “Are you worried he’ll steal your woman?”

  “We’re engaged, but she’s dragging her heels on the wedding. Permission from King Legato isn’t good enough; we have to get dispensation from the King of Bablios. That’s half a world away on the other side of a warzone.”

  Tashi smiled. “Meanwhile, you get sex every day in every room of your mansion with no strings.”

  “I want strings,” the tall wizard sighed. “I want what my parents have.”

  “You’re supposed to make me feel better and tell me you don’t have sex that often.”

  “Huh? Well we haven’t done it in the basement yet. Spiders and dark places creep me out now,” Pinetto said with a shiver. “Why so glum? You’re sleeping with Sarajah. She’s got a pretty good body and no promise ring.”

  “She has an awesome body.”

  “Are you thinking it’s evil that she can incapacitate a room full of men without a weapon?”

  “That’s actually pretty exciting.”

  “Brent said she’s a vampire who leaves men drained and exhausted.”

  “If I’m lucky.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “I can’t . . . use my arms or legs or lift yet.”

  “Ouch. Cuddling till you’re blue.”

  “You got that right.”

  Pinetto made a decision—hybrid creature or not, Tashi was the closest thing he was likely to have to a friend in the next month. “I . . . might be able to help with your lifting problem.”

  Tashi raised an eyebrow.

  “It only works at night while you sleep and only covers an area about the size of the palm of my hand; however, I’ve developed a therapy that would speed your healing.”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  “Not to you.”

  “Painful?”

  “My skin warmed a little when I tried, but it didn’t hurt. All I do is focus a kind of light that non-Imperials can’t see onto the injured area. I read about it in the Book of Archanos.”

  “What’s the catch?” Tashi demanded.

  “It’s an experiment. No one other than me has tried it. All I need is a south-facing window and to move the lens apparatus to your bedroom. We’ll need to strap down your right arm so it doesn’t move out of the beam of light or smash the lens by accident. Those took me forever to get right.”

  “Fine.”

  Pinetto blinked. “That’s it? No more questions or precautions?”

  “I really want to be able to use my arms and legs again.”

  The wizard spent the next several hours setting up the apparatus and adjusting the aim so it would focus on Tashi’s right inner elbow. This way, he could watch it work. In return, Tashi gave him his first lesson in meditation, to help smooth his bursty energy flow.

  ****

  At sunrise, Tashi’s cheers woke the house. “It works!” At breakfast, he explained, “I can move my arm freely and lift a sack full of potatoes without pain.”

  Smiling, the seeress said to Sajika, “Your husband’s a genius.”

  “He’s not . . .” The ambassador stopped her usual protest when she saw Pinetto’s face fall. “I’m sure another night of exposure will heal even more.”

  “I want to do each limb equally so I can start weight training,” Tashi said with enthusiasm.

  “What’s everyone else doing today?” the ambassador asked, holding her fiancé’s hand.

  Simon answered first. “I’m convincing King Legato to make the lowest denomination the ten-beat coin. Well, it’s more of a stamped pellet of iron of a certain size.”

  “The hills are lousy with iron; it’s cheap here,” noted the ambassador. “Why would changing the denomination help?”

  “Several reasons,” the builder replied. “His economy is in ruins since the occupation. First, food prices have gone up, and people need to use a lot of coins to pay. Second, it takes an artisan an average of three beats to make a one-beat coin. He’s operating at a loss. Third, someone has taken most of the one-beat coins out of circulation. We’re not sure who or why yet.”

  “What are merchants going to do with things that cost less than ten beats?” asked the ambassador.

  “Put more of them in a bag,” explained Brent with a mouthful of eggs. “When Dad gets home, he’s going to show me how to fix the deck out back and the docks along the lake.”

  ****

  As the house took shape, so did Tashi’s body. Though slow, the treatment worked on all his limbs, but not the older injuries to his skull or scars. When he went for his first hesitant walk around the courtyard with Sarajah’s help, Pinetto whispered to the ambassador, “He’s not a god; he doesn’t have the . . . gravitas, but sesterina and wards seem to work against
him.”

  “He’s not human, but we’re safe while we sleep. Is this the witch’s doing? I hear she transformed him into this form at the temple Door, just before the battle.”

  The wizard shook his head. “The witch plays with her own form like clay, and she’s still human. Whatever it was happened within the last few weeks: before the Battle of the Falls but after he wrestled the giant.”

  “Around the time the Pretender held him captive?” she asked, narrowing her eyes to watch Tashi out the window.

  “Yes. I can’t get much more precise without making him suspicious. He looked normal when I first met him, but the boy says he could already heal at abnormal rates and had no fear.”

  “Is he dangerous?”

  “My gut says not, but his blood is closest in nature to the panther daemon that fought on our side.”

  “Until we find out, keep our protections raised at night and always carry a sesterina-plated dagger and bolo.”

  “Agreed.” He paused, uncertain how to proceed. “I know you don’t like the witch, but she should know what she’s sleeping with.”

  “I’m worried that she already does and has a plan for him.”

  ****

  The second treatment on Tashi’s right arm reduced the swelling and doubled his strength. While bending over to pet the barn cat, he roared in pain. Sajika ran to see who was attacking. Pinetto explained, “I guess the treatments need to be applied more evenly, or the muscles cramp.”

  She pushed the half-troll over and ground her boot heel into his back as she pulled up on his shoulder. A crunch sounded and he whimpered in relief. He lay there sighing for several bits after.

  The workers started the rumor that the ambassador could beat a troll into submission. She made the most of her new reputation, ordering slackers back to their tasks.

  ****

  On the twelfth morning of treatments, Tashi rolled over and wrapped both arms around Sarajah with an affectionate growl. Her yelps of pain woke the house.

  At the breakfast table, she had a number of new bruises and some missing bangs. Pinetto opened his mouth to ask, and Tashi waved him off.

  While they were eating, everyone avoided the elephant in the room. Then, Pinetto saw white fluff falling from the sky. “Is that from the volcano? Some blight of the gods?”

  “It’s snow,” explained Simon. “Frozen water.”

  “Ice?” asked Brent. “I heard that only happens on mountaintops.”

  “We’re in the mountains,” Pinetto reminded him.

  “What does it do?” asked Tashi, puzzled.

  Simon cleaned egg yolk off his plate with a crust of bread. “Grab a couple spare shields after the meal. We’ll climb the tall hill out back, and I’ll show you.”

  Pinetto was out the door before Simon looked up from his plate.

  “Wait for me!” said Brent, dropping his fork with a clank.

  Tashi glanced at his girlfriend for permission. The moment she nodded, he was grabbing his gear to follow.

  Simon sighed. “Anyone else want to learn sledding?”

  Hilda replied, “A few local boys will be up at the top of bone-snapper hill already. Put ice on the bruises.” She set a jar of thin cookies on the table.

  The women contented themselves with brewing tea and watching from the window. Ambassador Sajika made the first tenuous advances as they gazed at their men playing. “How do you like the northlands?”

  “It’s harsh up here. Weather can kill you, but it’s clean,” Sarajah the Seeress summarized. “I’m used to overcrowded cities that don’t have enough to eat, where garbage and human waste are poured into the water.”

  Sajika smiled. “Yes. This mountain lake is so pure I can’t tell where the sky ends and the water begins. I get up every morning, see the view from my balcony, and can’t believe how lucky I am.”

  “I think it’s more than the view.”

  “What do you mean?” Sajika asked, opening the cookies.

  “You love him.”

  “He has the wonder of a child about the smallest things, and he understands me.”

  “Why are you afraid to say it?” asked the seeress. Her green eyes made Sajika uncomfortable as they bored into her.

  “If I commit, and he changes his mind or something happens to him, I’ll never recover.”

  “Why would he change his mind?”

  Sajika looked down, nibbling on a cookie. “Men always like younger. I’m a little older than he is. I was his first, sure, but when he gets bored and meets some rich, Imperial maiden . . . or someone without a broken face.”

  “Ah. You don’t see with his eyes. A powerful woman intimidates most men or makes them liars. A tittering maid wouldn’t hold his interest. For someone who listens for a living, you don’t pay attention.”

  “How do you know what I do for a living?” Sajika narrowed her eyes.

  “I’m no stranger to spies, dear, but to be honest, I’ve been drawing in my sleep.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I used to tell the future by reading magic cards. I gave them up at the Final Temple. Now it’s like I’m sledding down that hill blindfolded; it scares me. Yet it doesn’t matter what’s coming as long as Tashi’s with me. He makes the good times better and the bad times bearable. It could be my years at the Temple of Sleep, or those blasted eagle spirits on your roof; nevertheless, I’m drawing new Tarot cards. Sleepwalking with chalk and coal in my hands, each image takes about three days. I’m filling our whole wing in my sleep. The first card I drew was you—the Page of Mirrors. It’s not even a real suit. Mirror is all things to all people, but inside it is precious silver, flawless under pressure. You never interfere directly for fear you’ll be shattered, always behind the scenes and undercover. You have many people inside, legion.”

  Sajika whispered, “Please don’t tell my secret.”

  “After reading my journals, your husband-to-be knows more about me than anyone alive, and he’s been the soul of discretion. I return favors. His card is a new trump, the Archmage: combining several disciplines of mortals with knowledge gleaned from the gods. Through diligence, he discovers more by the mixture. He has been offered vast rewards, but greed does not overcome him.”

  “He didn’t graduate school,” Sajika noted. “He has no employable skills other than navigating a boat, and he can’t do that here in winter.”

  The seeress shook her head. “He’s beyond school. His powers are immense.”

  The reference to Pinetto sparked jealousy, and the green-eyed seeress added, “Fear not. He’s too scrawny for me, and he has sucker branded on his forehead. Idealists like him are dangerous. You’re the tail that keeps his kite under control.”

  “He’s a little naïve,” Sajika admitted, taking another cookie. “That’s what I find so refreshing about him.”

  “A little?” The seeress snorted. She looked young but often talked like an old woman. “The Pretender’s intelligence service was convinced that the smith favored men and was in love with your wizard.”

  “Oh dear,” Sajika said, unable to refute the claim. “Don’t mention that theory to him. If Baran killed himself because we got engaged, it would crush him. What do you want from me?”

  “You’ve opened your beautiful home to me and helped to heal my beloved. I would never betray you.”

  Sajika cocked her head. “Why are you being so nice?”

  “Men tell me I’m not supposed to be smart and powerful. Women usually fear and hate me. Sophia was an exception, but she’s gone. I miss that feeling . . . What’s your man doing with those iron runners and rope?”

  “An experiment, I’m sure. Look who’s volunteering to try the new sled contraption first—your Tashi.”

  “Hmph. He’s got the perfect body, but I have to carry the money for him because merchants short him sometimes and he doesn’t realize it. He’s not stupid, just damaged. He has things missing.”

  “I think Tashi’s an idealist, too.”

  “Yes. He lost
me everything I possessed: my land, followers, and title.”

  “You still keep him. There must be a reason,” Sajika hinted.

  “Such devotion is impossible to refuse. I corrupt at a touch and break people. Tashi has broken many times but returns to me still.” Smiling, the seeress added, “Watching him knock over a row of soldiers is hot. The thought of riding that physical power some day. Oh-ho.”

  “You haven’t?”

  Sarajah bit her lower lip. “I was hoping for some advice about that. To save his life, I made him as strong and armored as possible. Now, when we try to get . . . close, everything hurts. His chin, the backs of his hand, even the cup I gave him. He’s so hard and rough, it’s like cuddling a wood rasp.”

  Laughing, the ambassador sprayed cookie bits over the table.

  The seeress glared. “Sure, make fun of me. Your man could start a house fire if he sees you naked.”

  “He has; that’s why we use a steel tub. Hot baths every night are so relaxing.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I don’t see the problem. You used your magic to get him into this form; use magic to get him back.”

  “Not that simple. I need a Door and we closed the last one.”

  Sajika fought to hold back the grin. “How big are we talking?”

  “It’s not size; I just can’t be pelted with rocks on every sensitive region on my body.”

  The ambassador offered a few creative suggestions involving her having control and unconventional methods of sharing pleasure. The seeress asked detailed questions for half an hour. “How did you learn all this?”

  “As you said, being a spy means listening to men, and what they like.”

  “I should be worried about you.”

  “You think I’d steal your man? A troll? No thanks. Pinetto’s very tender.”

  “Thanks, these ideas will get us started,” Sarajah said. “I owe you.”

  “Did you want to wait till you’re married to do this?”

  “Who has the authority to perform the ceremony? I’m high priestess and queen.”

  “Not to mention conceited.”

  Sarajah stuck out her tongue. “No need to rush. I like my freedom. Men don’t get to own me anymore. I was a slave once; that’s enough for me, thank you.”