by Trudie Skies
This was Garr’s fault. He’d made her look a fool in front of her Fire Walkers. How was she supposed to train them if he was going to undermine her? They needed to trust her if she were to have any hope of smuggling them out of the temple and across the desert to Arlent.
At least Garr had the courtesy to mark himself as a potential threat.
As he watched her, so Mina would watch him.
22
DUTIES
The temple was a sandstorm of activity. Fire Walkers paired off and learned the basics of summoning their flame under Jonan’s instruction. Mina’s acolytes watched, listened, and offered genuine praise. Her plan was for them to study Jonan’s methods for a few days and then take over, allowing him the time needed to dig out more tunnels underneath the sanctum. Her only problems were Samira and Garr; she needed both of them out of the way.
She found the pair of them arguing with one another in the corner. Of course they were.
Garr saw her first and gave an exaggerated bow. “Priestess.”
Samira whirled around, her brows knitted together. “Oh, thank Rahn. I’m trying to teach, but this fool keeps interrupting me.”
His expression was the picture of innocence. “All I said was the food in here’s terrible. I’d kill for a bit of meat.”
Mina gawked at him. “You’re complaining about the food?”
“It’s all beans.” He rubbed his stomach. “It messes with my insides something rotten.”
“They fill you with air,” Kamran said. The baker’s boy sat with Fez on the nearest stone step. He no longer wore a bandage, though the cut on his forehead had left a scar. “That’s what the old Fire Walkers say. You can’t have fire without air. But sometimes it comes out elsewhere.” Kamran giggled and wafted his behind. “I burned my pants once.”
Garr grinned at the boy. “Is this how we’re going to win the war, Priestess? By bending over and letting go?”
Samira lifted her nose high. “Beans help restore blood. Especially in women.”
“I’m no healer, but meat restores what’s lost easier and tastes better,” Garr said.
“Well, I’m no economist, but beans cost not the whit of meat.”
“And? You expect us to fight your wars on beans?”
“You expect Housemen to pay for anything else?”
Garr turned to Mina. “Is that so, Priestess?” It was just the opening he’d been waiting for, and he glanced around to make sure he held an audience. Sure enough, several Fire Walkers had stopped training and now waited for Mina’s answer.
Mina bit back a sigh. Too many newcomers still saw her as a Houseman and not as the Sand Dancer who had liberated the Fire Walkers. “He has a point. Add better food to our budget,” she told Samira. “I want every man, woman, and child in this temple to eat well.”
Samira’s mouth dropped open. “We cannot afford such a thing, High Priestess.”
“My House will cover the cost if necessary.” She shot Garr with her most dismissive glare. “If you’ll excuse me, Ash Maker, I require a word with my acolyte. Shouldn’t you be training?”
“By lighting campfires? I don’t know, Priestess. Sounds too complex for me.”
“It’s not hard.” Kamran jumped down from the step and Fez scurried away with a screech. “I’ll show you.” He grabbed Garr’s sleeve and dragged him to a pile of wood.
Garr glanced over his shoulder and winked.
What was his game now? To poison the minds of Fire Walker children?
He could well be in league with Saeed and here to stir discontent. She waited until he was out of earshot and bent close to Samira. “Keep an eye on him. I’ll wager my sahn he’s going to try something.”
“Something like bankrupting the temple? Or riling up the Council against us with constant demands for better food and more gold?” Samira rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to win over our people with bribes.”
“Leila didn’t win them over with threats. They feared her.”
“Leila was only following the law, which is what you should be doing.”
Mina cast her gaze across the sanctum. Kamran laughed as he summoned a shower of sparks that rained down on Garr’s head. He might soon be ordered to unleash his fire against the enemy. “Did Leila keep any records of how she ran things? Food orders, kitchen staffing, laundry duties, any of that? There’s too many new people here, and we can’t start running out of bread or clean sheets.”
“Leila kept it all in here.” Samira tapped her forehead. “But I watched her work and ran her errands. I have an awareness of what needs doing.”
This was the perfect way to keep Samira occupied. “Then I’ll need you to keep things running smoothly. You’re the only one who knows all the ins and out of the temple. And don’t be miserly. We want our people to feel safe and well cared for. Can I count on you?”
Samira puffed out her chest. “It will be done, High Priestess.”
Mina reached into her pocket and dug out the ruby necklace Prince Rais had given her. The gem alone would be worth a pot of seras. “This should fetch enough gold for now.” She dropped it into Samira’s hands. “Sell it and get whatever we need.”
Kamran ran up to her. “Uh, Priestess? There’s a Bosan outside the temple.”
Mina excused herself and slid past the temple doors. The sudden change from soft brazier light to golden Rahnlight blinded her. She squinted at the broad silhouette.
“Stars, you really are the High Priestess.” Alistar smiled awkwardly. His dark hair had returned to a shaggy mess and he seemed closer to the boy Mina knew from her Academy days than some prince-in-training.
Mina tugged at her robes. “They’re itchy and I hate them. But my people would rather listen to a priestess than a Houseman, so I have to look the part. What’s this about? I didn’t expect to see you again anytime soon.”
“I thought we could get a drink.” His usual lime beads were back in his braid, and he tugged on it absentmindedly—something he only did when nervous. “I’d ask Raj too, but he’s busy running Green Hand errands. Up for it, Arl?”
Mina smirked at her old nickname. “On my gold, I assume?”
Alistar grinned. Together, they strode down the hill as Ali and Arl, and Mina left her worries at the temple doorstep.
Solus was busier than normal with soldiers rolling wagons full of crates and sacks up to Bloodstone Keep. Tents had been erected outside the walls, and carts were stashed in every patch of grass or alleyway they could fit into. Lines of men surrounded the Hall of Honor—city folk, young and old. Every Sandarian man had some idea how to duel, but the arena is where they’d train to use their swords together as an army.
All were called to war. Most had little choice.
Alistar watched them wearily, his thoughts likely reflecting her own.
The Council had sounded their war cry and made revenge for the murder of their Queen sound glamorous, but these men had nothing to win from battle. Many would die, and the rest would return home to the exact same ragged lives as before.
Still, Mina wished she could spend a few days among them at the arena learning military strategy and tactics. She knew nothing about arranging soldiers on the battlefield or how to direct them once the fighting began. Would she be expected to command her Fire Walkers during battle? Would Jonan be at her side to guide her?
She wrapped her arm around Alistar’s and pulled him into the market to buy them both a lamb skewer. They wandered aimlessly while they ate and found themselves beside the city docks.
Lune sent a soothing breeze thick with the taste of brine as Rahn sank toward the horizon. Alistar stared out to sea as seagulls fought over a scrap of bread nearby. “Orders are coming in now. Lord Salasar will be mobilizing his men within the next few weeks. And then the march north begins.”
Indeed. Iman would be leaving for Arlent soon.
“My father’s returned to Myryn,” Alistar continued. “And my brothers back to Neu Bosa.”
“You’re not joining them?” she asked.
“I’ve received my orders. I’ll be leaving with Lord Salasar’s company for the Ruby Coast within the next couple of days.”
She choked on her lamb and tossed the skewer aside. The seagulls took flight in alarm. “But you’re the ambassador’s son!”
“Which means I’ve got to perform my duty and prove myself to be a true warrior. Prince Ravel made that very clear, and so my father can’t wait to send me to the front lines.”
“Maybe I can talk to my father,” Mina suggested, but without hope.
“It’s fine.” He turned and shrugged. “What was all that Academy training for, if not this? It’s not like I left early to join a tournament or anything.” Alistar grinned, though there was something manic about it.
Gods, he was scared. Seeing the preparations for war and knowing her dearest friend would be in the thick of it made her heart ache.
She opened her mouth to suggest getting that drink when a flicker in a lamppost’s lantern caught her eye. Tira was waving frantically at her. She pointed in the direction of the temple.
Oh gods, what now?
“I have to get back.” She thrust a few coins into his hand. “Get a drink on me.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Fetch Raj and we’ll drink tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder. She wove through the market crowds, then hoisted her robes and raced up the hill to the Temple of Rahn. Samira and Jonan stood outside the main doors arguing with Garr.
“What’s going on?” she yelled.
“The baker’s boy is missing,” Jonan said.
Samira jabbed a finger at Garr. “Because of that fool! He scared the poor boy half to death by saying we’re all going to die on the front lines—”
“At least I’m not hiding the truth from them!” Garr crossed his arms and scowled.
“And how is terrifying them going to help?”
“It’s the truth!”
Mina held up her hand. “Where is Kamran?”
Samira rubbed her head. “He ran from the temple a short while ago. I needn’t explain what will happen if we don’t find him, High Priestess.”
No, she didn’t. Running from the temple was a crime worthy of death in the eyes of the law. If the city guards found Kamran first… he wouldn’t make it to war.
23
THE RUNAWAY
Dusk would soon cover the city, which meant the guards would begin their evening patrols. Mina couldn’t risk Kamran running into them. “Jonan and I will cover the lower city. Samira, fetch his mother and ask if there are any places he could have run to. And you—” She eyed Garr with disdain. “Get back inside. You’ve done enough.”
The Ash Maker stood with his arms crossed. “I didn’t mean to scare the boy. Let me help. The two of you can’t search an entire city—”
“If the guards see you running around outside the temple, they’ll cut you down.”
Samira snorted. “Let him. If he gets cut down, so be it.”
“Fine,” Mina said. “We’ve wasted enough time.”
Samira returned to the temple as Mina, Jonan, and Garr headed for the lower city. They split up, and Mina slid into one of the many dark alleyways with a hand to the dagger in her belt. She waited until she was alone and snapped her fingers, willing a flame to spread around her fist. In a heartbeat, flickering red and orange flames engulfed her hand, and in the center floated Tira.
“You need to help me,” Mina whispered. “Can you see where Kamran is?”
Tira nodded and pointed down the alley.
“Take me to him.”
Mina held out her hand like a torch and jogged through the cramped alleys. Tira pointed her this way and that. The lower city remained quiet as Rahn withdrew his light and allowed Lune to take his place.
As she searched the alleys, an ache began to spread over her forehead. She wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer, and the lower city alleys lacked torches or lanterns. Where would a young Fire Walker hide?
A familiar screech sounded from around a corner. Gods, it couldn’t be—
Fez darted across a courtyard, chasing a rat. And there was Kamran stumbling after him, trying to catch the fox.
“What are you doing?” Mina said, a little too loudly. Tira faded as Mina shook her flame away.
Fez barked and came to a halt, his ears flat. Kamran scooped the fox, who wiggled in his arms. “He followed you out of the temple. I tried to stop him, but he’s too fast.”
“You were—you didn’t run away?”
Fez nipped Kamran’s finger. He yelped and released his grip enough for Fez to scamper up to his shoulder and perch there. “No!” Kamran said with indignation. “I didn’t want your pet to get lost or hurt.”
“He’s not a pet. He’s—never mind.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You do remember what happens to Fire Walkers who leave the temple?”
“I’m not dumb. But he’s only a runt. He could have got eaten by dogs—”
“He’s a smart fox. He can take care of himself. Do not leave the temple for any reason, you hear me?”
Kamran thrust out his lip, ready to argue.
She raised her eyebrow in the perfect imitation of Iman. “That’s an order.”
He hung his head. “Yes, Priestess.”
“Good. Let’s get back.”
She steered Kamran out of the courtyard and they shuffled through the alleyways at a brisk pace. They were almost out of the lower city unseen and the tip of temple’s pyramid was just visible above the decrepit buildings when they turned a corner straight into a city guard.
Kamran wasn’t dressed like a Fire Walker, but his head was shaved bare, a telltale sign even if his tattoos were covered.
The guardsman placed a hand on his sword hilt. “You boys lost?”
Normally, Mina was content to be mistaken for a male, but gods, what was the point of wearing these accursed robes if not to mark her as a Fire Walker priestess? She stepped in front of Kamran and met the guard’s eye. “I am High Priestess Tamina of House Arlbond.” She cringed at her own name. It didn’t sound right to introduce herself so formally. “If you’ll excuse me, we must return to the temple.”
“Why are you outside?”
“Lighting the city’s lanterns. Kamran here volunteered to assist me. He’s young but eager to help.” She slapped Kamran on the shoulder, and he winced.
The guard’s eyes narrowed. “In the lower city?”
“We became lost.” She fluttered her eyelashes in the same way she’d seen noble women pout in the Keep. “All these darn alleys look the same. Thank the gods we found you! Would you kindly escort us back?”
The guard released his sword. “This way, Priestess.”
He led them back to the main street and toward the temple. Kamran stuck out his tongue behind the guard’s back but stopped when she gave him a stern look.
City guardsmen awaited them outside the temple doors with their swords drawn, pointed at Garr. At the head of the guard stood a broad figure she certainly never expected nor wanted to see again. His beard flopped like a goat’s.
Cyrus Fellbond.
The bully from her Academy days. He’d been one of Prince Ravel’s lackeys and had challenged her to a sorrite. A sorrite she’d barely won.
“Are we in trouble?” Kamran whispered.
If the Ash Maker was picking fights with the local guard and Cyrus Fellbond of all people, then it wouldn’t end well for any of them. “Wait here. I’ll handle this.”
She approached the guards with her chin held high and put on her best commanding voice—again mimicking Iman when her aunt was displeased. “What’s the meaning of this?”
Cyrus whirled around and his face lit up with delighted malice. “Malik of House Arlbond. I always knew you were a bitch.”
“Such an original insult. Did you think of it yourself?” She rubbed the hilt of
her mother’s dagger in her belt and regretted leaving Hawk behind. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d run away.”
Cyrus thumped his chest. “The Sword of Solus needed a sorran, and he only takes the best.”
“You’re his new sorran? You?”
“When I realized the Academy was no place for men of worth or honor, I returned home to Fellbani and trained with real warriors, men who’d killed their fair share of raiders and Hartnords. Sounds like I made the right decision. I can’t believe they let a woman into the tournament. What a farce.”
“I won the tournament.”
“You cheated our Prince of his victory. First, the King let women into his Council, then into his tournament, and then he listened when they told him to let Fire Walkers run rampant. And now, we’ve got riots and war. You see what happens when women are allowed to open their mouths? The last war started because some foolish slut got herself killed.”
Did men really believe that? “Why are you here?”
“My Lord Salasar requests your presence. I came to deliver his message personally, and then I found this worthless mutt loitering in the streets—”
“At the Priestess’s command,” Garr said.
“At your command, Arlbond?”
Heat tingled in her fingertips and she fought the urge to glare at Garr. She couldn’t admit they were looking for a missing Fire Walker. “Yes, at my command. You are aware that our duty as Fire Walkers means we light the city’s lanterns?” She waved a hand at the street. “As you can see, it’s dusk.”
Garr offered a subtle smirk. Gods, she was going to wipe that smirk off his face as soon as she dragged his sorry hide inside the temple. “Your Houseman friend tried to force his way inside the temple and make demands of us—”
“And who are you to refuse me?” Cyrus scoffed. “If a Houseman makes a demand, you obey it.”
“We answer to no one but our Priestess.”
“Is that what you’re teaching these dogs, Arlbond? That they’re yours to command and not the Bright Solara’s? I’m sure this is a matter our Prince should be made aware of.”