Sir Danth bowed while Tathan snatched up the remaining gold piece. The innmaster gestured toward the bellhop. “Geff will take your bags and show you to your room. Have your horses or carriage been seen to?”
Tathan was quick on his feet as always and spun one of his stories to the innmaster. “We have no devices of comfort at the moment. My lord wished to test himself against the greatest dangers of the wilderness wearing only his armor, cloak and sword. The wilderness never stood a chance and now my lord will take a well deserved rest.” Liselle thought that was laying it on a bit thick, but the innmaster and bellhop appeared suitably impressed.
“Milord is most courageous to brave the Kethril wilderness,” the innmaster said. “Please, allow Geff to lead you to the room. Would you like your meals brought to you?”
“That will be suitable, thank you,” Tathan replied. As they followed the bellhop up to their rooms, Liselle decided that she would come back down to the common room as soon as possible to talk to people.
Chapter 8
Liselle never went downstairs because she and Anilyia fell asleep shortly after eating and taking baths. The boys sat around the dining table in the luxurious living room of the suite, relaxing with a bottle of wine. Sir Danth couldn’t drink, but liked to hold a glass out of memory of the habit. A crackling fire warmed the living room, spreading its heat to each of the bedrooms.
Tathan had fallen in love with Princess Anilyia and didn’t know what to do about it. She was pretty and touching her skin felt amazing, but he also liked to talk to her. The education she had received growing up was extraordinary. She told him about things in the world he hadn’t even heard of in rumors. In turn, he told her of his adventures and fascinated her with the things he had learned firsthand.
Anilyia soaked up knowledge like a sponge. She was arrogant about certain things, like peasants, but did what was necessary to survive. At first, Tathan was worried about getting her with child. He knew a few herbs and ways to prevent it, but they didn’t always work and there weren’t any wizards in the wilderness to make potions. When he mentioned his concern to her, she pointed at one of her rings and explained that it prevented her from becoming pregnant. It was wise for a princess to have such protections, for even if they were chaste, bad things could happen.
Anilyia had suggested that Tathan come work at the palace where they could have a secret affair. She also offered to become a rogue and travel the world with him, though she made him promise they would occasionally stay somewhere nice. The princess was in love with the thief and gave herself freely to him. Now he had to make the decision what to do next and didn’t like it.
It came down to the fact that while the streets were dangerous for a skilled thief, they were deadly for an inexperienced one. Nor did Tathan want her to learn the depravity and despair he had seen. He was leaning toward taking her back to Mayncal and having the affair. He worried about getting soft, but it would be dangerous to have an affair with a princess and Tathan liked danger.
A knock at the door startled them. Vevin had nodded off in his chair or he most likely would have heard the footsteps through the door. Tathan got up to answer it, waving for the other two to relax. Vevin rubbed his face to bring back some alertness.
At the door was a servant of the inn escorting a man in a plain brown robe tied by a rope belt. Tathan instantly recognized the man as a monk and, judging by the wild eyes and ratty black hair, a fanatic monk. The servant glanced at the monk in contempt before turning to Tathan. “This . . . individual . . . said that it is urgent he speak with you. I tried to put him off, but . . .”
Tathan sighed and nodded at the servant. “May as well talk to him for a minute.” After deftly catching the silver piece Tathan tossed, the servant bowed and went back down the hallway, giving the fanatic wide berth.
The monk dripped inconsiderately on the carpet inside the door as Tathan let him in. Vevin and Sir Danth looked on in mild curiosity. “What do you want?” Tathan asked.
“Yes, you are Tathan of the Shadows, no?” the monk asked in a creepy, rhythmic voice.
Faster than a person could blink an eye, Tathan’s sword was at the monk’s neck. It drank hungrily of the light from the fireplace and candles around the room.
“Yes, the hungry blade shows it to be true, no?” The irises of his eyes were jagged blue and the whites were bloodshot. He cackled, showing teeth that were yellowed and rotting. Tathan turned his face to the side to avoid the putrid odor emanating from the fanatic’s mouth.
Vevin and Sir Danth had come to Tathan’s sides, ready to lend a hand. Tathan said in a low, dangerous voice, “What exactly is it you want?”
“Yes, your coming was foretold, no?” the monk asked, raising his head as though he knew something no one else suspected . . . or wanted to suspect.
Vevin leaned next to Tathan’s ear and whispered, “Why does he keep saying yes at the beginning and no at the end every time he speaks? It’s confusing.” Tathan shrugged.
The monk either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He continued to stare at Tathan with his eyes wide open as though trying to bore a hole in Tathan’s head with his gaze. “Yes, you are the one, no? Yes, you must come with me and meet the Holy Prophet of the Goddess Telemooo, no?”
“Ahh, the Cow Goddess. That makes much more sense,” Vevin leaned towards Tathan’s ear again. “Except for the yes and no thing. I think this guy might be a little extra crazy.”
Tathan nodded and whispered back. “I know, right?” At the same time, he put his sword away. The monk might be crazy, but he wouldn’t be able to overcome the three of them. Aloud, he answered, “I’m not the one, and I have no desire to go with you.”
The monk bent his knees and tilted his head upward, opening his eyes even more as though that might help to create the hole in Tathan’s head. “Yes, you must go with me, no? Yes, if you don’t, then all the disciples of Telemooo come to you and follow you to the end of days, no?”
“That could get inconvenient,” Sir Danth said.
“Fine. I’ll come with you, but just to get it over with.” Tathan went to change from his robe to his leggings and jacket. He put on a spare shirt as well. Sir Danth and Vevin stood in front of the monk with their arms crossed to prevent him from going any further into the room. The crazed man stared at Tathan’s head, still trying vainly to create a hole in it.
“Do you need us to come with you?” Sir Danth asked as Tathan gestured for the monk to lead the way.
“No, I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with this sort of thing before. If I’m not back by morning, you might want to come find me,” Tathan suggested. Vevin and the knight stepped back and let them out. As they passed through the common room, the patrons and staff looked at the fanatic in distaste. He, in turn, wasn’t even aware of their presence.
Outside, the rain had lessened, but a light sprinkle kept things miserable. The monk led Tathan onto the muddy road heading north. There were few people out so late at night and Tathan knew anyone who was out, was either drunk, dishonest or both. He looked at the monk who was taking large exaggerated steps and added crazy to that list.
Tathan stepped across the mud, barely making any impression at all. It was a trick learned long ago from real monks. He had never heard of the goddess Telemooo, but there were radical cults all over the world, usually led by charismatic individuals high on mushrooms or other exotic drugs. Occasionally, a powerful entity would find followers and get them to do their bidding. Tathan wasn’t sure which kind this cult was and didn’t care. He would listen to their words and give them some sort of excuse as to why he couldn’t help them.
It took a good hour to get to a grassy field with an immense barn in the middle. The moons lit the clouds, giving everything a surreal lavender glow. Miserable looking cows chewed cud in the rain. Tathan always considered cows to be miserable creatures anyway, so it didn’t surprise him.
A cowled monk, illuminated by a single torch, opened one of the large doors enough for them to e
nter. Inside smelled the way a large barn should. There were only cows in the stalls instead of goats, horses or other barnyard animals. Monks moved about their chores, all with their hoods up. Tathan could tell that some were women by the way they walked.
The barn was big, but not enough to house a cult. Tathan wondered where the people stayed until he was led to a wide stairway dug into the ground. Two large monks stood on either side of it. He could tell they were capable of handling most mundane trouble. They didn’t look at him as Tathan’s escort led him down the rough steps that led deep into the world.
Tathan was stunned by the enormous cave when they reached bottom a few minutes later. It wasn’t natural like the caverns of the Rojuun and Tathan wondered how many years or decades it had taken them to create it. He wished they had spent a few more years creating a better vent system. Cows lived alongside unwashed humans, making Tathan question how they got the livestock down. The braced ceiling, about a hundred feet above them, was black from soot. The monks used cow patties for fuel and it contributed to the stench.
The smell became worse as they crossed the cave. He could see tunnels in a few directions. Tathan assumed they were sleeping quarters because trying to think of what other kinds of rooms a cow cult might have hurt his head. Wooden and copper cow statues were everywhere. Tathan thought a few looked more like goats or pigs and one even looked like a chicken. He was wise enough not to point out the flaws though. Most monks were lacking in the appreciation of humor . . . or flaws.
A large wooden throne was on a dais against the far wall. Above it towered a large upright cow statue with a head that loomed down upon whoever might seek an audience. It looked angry and ferocious . . . as ferocious as it was possible for a cow to look.
On the throne was a short man who looked even crazier than Tathan’s escort. He had greasy black hair past his shoulder blades and a beard to match. It looked like small patches of hair had been yanked out of the top of his head, perhaps in fits of insanity. However, he radiated a visible aura of power and Tathan could tell that some sort of deity touched the deranged man. Things would have been much easier if the cult had been the product of psychedelic mushrooms.
“Youuuuuu!” The Prophet pointed at Tathan. “Youuuuuu are the one foretold of.” The way he uttered the end of the ‘you’ sounded like a cow. Overall, his voice had a bovine quality to it.
Tathan sighed and crossed his arms. He didn’t respond because he was trying to breathe in as little of the putrid air as possible. Instead, he studied the people who were gathering around in anticipation. Every single one of them had the eyes of a crazed zealot. Tathan didn’t mind religion and piety, but getting crazy about it was more than he could handle.
“Youuuuuu are the savior of the sacred milk. Prophecy has led youuuuuuu to us, Tathan of the Shadows.” The Prophet pointed a bony finger at him. He was malnourished and as he got off the throne and began walking toward Tathan, it became clear that he suffered from a bent spine. “Youuuuuu have been guided to us by divine cows. They have been watching youuuuuu.”
Tathan arched an eyebrow. “Cows have been watching me? That’s a bit unnerving.”
“Yes! Cows have been watching youuuuuu, guiding youuuuuu to the sacred barn of Telemooooooooo.” The name of their goddess came out exactly like a cow’s moo. All of the followers mooed as well.
Tathan tried to resist laughing by ducking his head and covering his forehead with a hand. He failed. His shoulders shook and strangled laughs forced their way past his throat.
“I know youuuuuu are touched by the honor. It is understandable that youuuuuu would be overcome by emotion.” The Prophet patted Tathan on the arm.
Tears rolled down Tathan’s cheeks and he gasped rancid air in an attempt to gain control. Since traveling with Liselle, he had seen too many things beyond the realm of explanation. The church of the cow pushed him over the edge and all the stress of the past few months came down in an avalanche of emotion. Tathan slapped his leg and fell to his knees, unable to breathe. It took him a moment to inhale a ragged breath before collapsing into more laughter.
The Prophet raised his hands into the air and yelled, “He is overcome with the divine madness of cows! It is a sign!” The crowd nodded, accepting their Prophet’s word. He went back to staring at Tathan with manic eyes.
Tathan finally regained his composure and wiped his eyes. When the Prophet was certain Tathan was finished, he said, “Youuuuuu must fulfill a holy quest given to us by the Sacred Udder.”
He lost patience when Tathan burst into laughter again. “Youuuuuu must accept the quest! Do not ridicule the Sacred Udder!” He smacked Tathan across the face.
The change was instant and shocking. One moment Tathan was laughing, the next he was dead silent. The Prophet took a step back at the expression on the rogue’s face. Tathan slowly exhaled and calmed his nerves. He just wanted to get out of the cave. “What exactly do you want?” he asked in a stone-cold tone.
“Youuuuuu must rescue the Sacred Bucket of Milk from the Island of Carnivorous Fairies,” the Prophet said, raising both arms and one foot into the air in a dramatic gesture. Like everything else about the experience, it was over the top.
There was no way Tathan was going to mess with carnivorous fairies, especially not on an island where there was no escape. “Forget it. Not interested. I have other things to do right now that are more important than your bucket.” He turned to leave.
“Youuuuuu must! The fate of the world rests in your hands!”
Tathan stopped in his tracks and turned around. He was sick of hearing that phrase. “The fate of the world does not rest in my hands. It’s just a line all you wild idiots use to get people to do your crazy work.”
“The fate of the world rests in your hands! Only youuuuuu can save the world! Evil Worms of Doom will descend upon humanity, destroying all before them if youuuuuu do not complete this most holy . . .” The Prophet stopped suddenly and looked down at Tathan’s sword drinking his life force from his chest. Tathan slid the blade out and wiped it clean on the Prophet’s robes as the body fell to the ground.
Tathan couldn’t handle another person trying to get him to do some stupid quest under the pretense of saving the world. He knew killing the disciple was a bad idea, but didn’t care. Tathan sheathed the blade, turned around and pushed through the crowd of fanatics who stared at their dead leader in shock.
The two guards at the top of the stairs looked down as Tathan reentered the barn. They exchanged glances and shrugged while Tathan walked to the door and made his way out. The monk outside pushed it closed again after checking to see that no one else was following.
Tathan got the oddest feeling that the cows in the field were now staring at him. It was most likely guilt for the way he handled things, so he shook it off. The thing that worried him the most was the thought that Liselle might find out.
He would have to be more careful about killing people just because they irritated him. Fortunately, most people didn’t care what happened in a cow cult. They might even thank him, although Tathan didn’t intend to tell anyone about it.
Another hour later, he was back at the inn. Tathan wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, but Sir Danth was waiting for him.
Tathan sighed and changed back into his robe after drying off. Then he sat in front of the fire across from Sir Danth and made up a new version of what had happened.
“It was some sort of cow cult. The leader was high on mushrooms and wanted me to rescue sacred milk or something like that.” It was close enough to the truth.
“Extraordinary. We had some of those back in Morhain. They were usually driven out of the forest by the army,” Sir Danth reminisced. “How did you get away?”
“I told them that the sacred milk was on top of a mountain and had already been lapped up by the Kitten of Doom,” Tathan said with a grin. “Now I’m off to bed. I’m exhausted and need sleep.”
“Goodnight, my friend . . . if you still consider me your friend,�
�� Sir Danth said.
Tathan put a gentle hand on the knight’s shoulder. “I do. We all have our trials and need friends to get through them.”
“Thank you,” Sir Danth stared at the fire while Tathan went to bed.
Chapter 9
Sir Danth left the room to go watch the sunrise, hoping the clouds wouldn’t obscure it behind their dreary grey. Upon reaching the common room, he recognized something was wrong. There were no patrons or servants, only a few soldiers milling about as though preparing for a fight. They froze upon seeing the knight.
He turned around and went back upstairs. While passing the second floor, he saw more soldiers down the hall getting a few remaining customers out. They also froze upon seeing the knight.
A moment later, he was back in the suite. He closed and locked the door, debating what to do. Sir Danth had a feeling that Tathan had done something the night before that was going to get them all in trouble. He decided to wake Liselle and Vevin first. Liselle would keep Tathan from telling more stories or coming up with a plan that would just get them killed.
Sir Danth went to the door of their room. “Vevin, Liselle. We’re in danger.” Vevin was on his feet instantly while Liselle sat up and rubbed her eyes. “What’s the danger?” Vevin asked, doing a danger readiness shuffle.
“There are troops in the common room and it appears the guests are being evacuated,” Sir Danth answered. “I believe Tathan might have done something last night. He told me a story about how he had convinced a cult leader that he couldn’t do a quest.”
Vevin cocked his head. “I hear troops outside. They have the building surrounded and are debating the different ways to get us out. I can tell by things they say that they’re here to arrest us.”
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