Chapter Forty-Five #2
Unlike when we arrived in Engel, these streets are filled with hawkers selling goods, which means we’ve found the market district.
Tents are stacked with baskets full of fresh produce and salted meats.
I hope we’re not far from the city gates.
As we make our way through the market, I keep us off the main streets, trying to make sure I’m not walking too fast for Dietan.
I’m worried about him, but I’m frustrated, too, so I pick up the pace, dragging him along by the elbow.
“You’re being awfully rough,” he complains.
“I haven’t slept.”
“Remind me never to keep you up all night,” he says as we round yet another corner. The city gates come into view at last. This would be good news, if it weren’t for the battalion of guards barring the exit.
“Shit.” I pull us back behind the corner and out of sight.
“Want to try to run for it?” Dietan asks, pinching his hood closed, covering his face.
“That’s your plan, oh master tactician? Just run and hope they won’t cut us down?”
Dietan shrugs.
“In your condition, I doubt you could even crawl.”
“Now that you mention it, running probably isn’t the best option.” He sighs again. “What else can we do? Have you considered that they might not recognize us and just let us out?”
I crane my neck and study the activity at the gate. “That’s not the issue. Our problem is that they’ve barred the gates. No one’s getting in or out. At least, that’s what it looks like.”
I try to imagine some way to get past the guards, but neither of us can fight.
We have no choice but to double back down the alley to find another way around. Maybe there’s a city gate that’s not as heavily guarded? Some back entry for servants or merchants?
Each time we turn a corner, there are guards stationed in front of a door, or the telltale sound of boots marching, heading our way. We backtrack the opposite direction, but there’s another battalion that way, too.
Finally, there is nowhere left to go.
There are no alleys or alcoves to hide in. We’ll be caught, and I doubt our shoddy makeshift disguises will be of any use then. I try not to despair, when I turn another corner and find a golden temple flanked by towering columns and colorful banners billowing in the hot desert wind.
“Psst! Aren! Over here!” a veiled acolyte whispers from the doorway.
Dietan and I look at each other, surprised and skeptical.
How would a sister at this temple know my name? Then I remember: the House of Healing. I glance at the crude map Bing handed me.
This is our chance.
As we cross the street, a group of guards rounds the corner, and I shove Dietan the last several paces through the temple’s open doorway. I rush in behind him as the veiled girl steps back into the entrance, her voluminous flowing robes hiding us from view.
I steal a look at the guards as they march by the temple, praying they won’t linger by our door. Most of the men pass, but the last one stops.
“Sister,” he says to the veiled acolyte as he riffles through his satchel, not five paces from where Dietan and I crouch behind the door.
I fear the worst, thinking he’s going to produce a search warrant or an order from the king.
He walks up the temple steps, and my heart stutters.
Then he produces a handful of coins and places them in the veiled girl’s hands. “For the work you do,” he says.
“Sirona bless you,” the temple sister says, pocketing the money.
He briskly marches off to join his company.
I stumble back deeper into the vestibule, relieved beyond words. My thundering heartbeat slows, and the glass tiles feel cool against my back. Dietan rests his weight on my shoulder, spent from our rushed escape along the city perimeter.
Inside the sanctuary of the temple, incense fills the air. Tinkling bells and running water echo from deeper within.
When the guards are gone, the sister turns around, lifting her veil and revealing her face. It’s a welcome one.
“Siena!” The scullery maid is resplendent in her jeweled gown. Her fiery locks are brushed and gleaming with bangles chiming on her wrists. I must look a fright in comparison.
“Aren! We waited for you all night!” she says as we fall into a tight embrace. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see a friend. “What happened?” she asks when she releases me. “Why didn’t you make it to the meeting place?”
“I was…delayed,” I say, giving Dietan a sideways glance. “He was in much worse shape than I thought…”
Dietan leans uneasily on the wall, twitching occasionally in pain. He’s almost unrecognizable in his rags. The skin that isn’t bruised and swollen is sickly and pallid.
“Oh, dear. Is that…?” she asks.
I nod.
Siena sinks into a deep bow. “Your Highness,” she says. “I am at your service.” I remember now that Siena is from Loegria.
Dietan winces as the two of us each take an arm and help him walk. He’s still shaky, and he shudders each time he moves.
“Osian did this?” Siena whispers, looking aghast. “I knew he tortured his victims, but even the prince of Loegria…” She can’t finish.
“He needs help,” I say, gripping her hand urgently.
“Good food and uninterrupted sleep and the best damned healer we can find. We need to get him on the road as quickly as we can.” I sigh, thinking back on everything we’ve suffered, only to escape Namreth by the skin of our teeth, with the Rings still firmly embedded in Dietan’s back.
“You’re in the right place,” Siena says. “We can help him here. Come on.” She leads us deeper into the temple.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as we make our way down a long corridor bathed in the soft glow of copper braziers suspended from arched ceilings. “Why didn’t you leave with the others from the meeting point?”
Her bangles jingle as she walks. “I told them to leave without me. I didn’t want to go without you and the prince. This was the only place I could think to come when the alarm sounded. I was raised in the faith, and the temple is a safe haven.”
“I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have waited for me,” I say.
Siena looks me in the eye. “And leave my friend? You saved me once. We faithful do not rest until a kindness is returned.”
We share a meaningful look. She is a loyal subject of Loegria, yes, but she waited for me.
Women—we look out for each other.
I’m beyond grateful, and I hope her decision doesn’t lead to her death. “I’ll get us all out of here, I swear.”
“I know you will.” Siena smiles cheekily. “It’s the first time I’ve been outside the castle since I was sold into King Osian’s service when I was ten years old.”
My heart drops to my stomach. Ten years old. She was just a child. Who could do such a cruel thing, especially to someone so young? An even more fierce determination grows within me to escape. Siena deserves a life outside of these walls.
The heart of the temple is built of stones so massive they must have been assembled by giants.
A handful of relics are displayed on plain pedestals, broken pieces of gold and marble from earlier epochs winking in the firelight.
The main chamber is a veiled statue of a goddess with her arms raised.
The gods here are not the ones who watch over us in Alarice, but in the presence of this ancient deity of old Estyrion, I feel welcomed.
Harvest Mother would not be slighted that I give thanks to my savior today, her sister goddess.
Siena bows her head before the statue. “This is the temple of Sirona, goddess of health and healing,” she explains. “The goddess without a face who welcomes all.”
As we shuffle forward, holding up an unconscious Dietan between us, we lose ourselves amongst veiled acolytes dressed in the same robes as Siena. There are other weary travelers bowed in prayer.
No one pays us any mind.
I surmise this place is more than just a house of healing. I wonder how many others—escapees or otherwise—have come through these doors seeking sanctuary from the king’s cruelty.
Siena leads us to a high-ceilinged chamber deep within the temple, where an older woman in flowing robes lights candles and incense.
She turns when she hears us approach, her wrinkled face kind and welcoming.
When she sees Dietan, she simply extends one hand toward the table, and we guide him to lie on it.
He’s completely unconscious, but he’s breathing.
“Thank you, sister,” Siena says, bowing with folded palms. I do the same.
The healer leans over Dietan, whispering some enchantment as she stuffs his mouth with herbs. She inspects his wounds with sure hands, rubbing them with ointments drawn from a series of tiny golden pots. I can see their faint glow from the other end of the table.
“Leave us,” she orders. “This will take a while, and I don’t want you to hear him in pain.”
I can’t bear the thought of Dietan suffering further, but I know too well from Veteria that many medicines require some measure of pain to do their work.
As I watch the healer tend to his wounds, my shoulders relax.
The woman knows her craft. I can only hope that despite his many injuries, Dietan will be in a condition to leave soon, before we bring Namreth’s forces to this temple’s doorstep.
He looks like death warmed over, and I pray the healer is endowed with all Sirona’s blessings.
“Come on,” says Siena. “You must be hungry.” It’s only then that I realize the air is ripe with the scent of seared meats, roasted vegetables, and fresh-baked bread.
Siena leads me to a dining hall and passes me a plate.
She piles it high with all manner of hearty fare.
We sit down next to each other at a long table with many others, including priests and priestesses in their imposing headdresses.
I’m so hungry that I don’t talk for a long time, focused on filling my mouth with the temple’s bounty.
“Do you know what happened to the others?” I finally ask, when I’ve scraped my plate clean. “Did they get out?”
“I don’t know. I imagine some of them did, but I could be wrong. I…” Siena’s brow furrows with concern.
“The alarm—they figured out we escaped,” I say.
“We can’t be sure,” says Siena hopefully. “But why else would they have sounded it?”
I nod. So much for my grand plan. I hope they all got to safety. I hope we can get to safety in time. I glance at the door, toward the room where we left Dietan with the healer.
Sienna pats my arm. “Don’t worry. Sister Dosha is a true talent,” she says with a note of pride. “She’s from my home village, where they teach this art.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’s talented,” I say. “But it’s going to take a miracle to get Dietan on his feet before the king’s men arrive.”