Chapter 30
Thirty
Casimir
The etching of Ardone carved into the pinkish stone wall smiles tenderly. All the same, a niggle runs through my nerves with her gaze on me.
I’ve served my godlen faithfully for as long as I knew how to. Surely I’ve earned the temple hospitality we’re going to take advantage of tonight?
But I can’t help wondering if I’ve strayed too far from the path I dedicated myself to. If some of the misfortunes we’ve faced reflect the gods’ disapproval—of me.
My mother would certainly have said so.
Stavros peers warily at the small door I’ve led my companions to. “You’re absolutely sure the cleric will harbor us unquestioningly?”
I shoot him a reassuring grin. “Ardone has a clear policy on those seeking shelter in her temples.”
I step toward the door and press my hand to the print carved into the wooden surface with Ardone’s sigil marked deeper on the palm. I bring my other hand to my chest.
It isn’t hard to summon the deep-rooted pang of emotion associated with the woman behind me. I swallow thickly and lift my voice. “I’m here out of love.”
The truth of it resonates through my words, and something clicks over in the door. It swings open at my nudge.
With a rush of relief that I’ve been able to provide at least this much, I glance over my shoulder at the others and motion for them to follow me.
“Come on in. These will be separate chambers from the rest of the temple. A building this size should have at least a few rooms that can be individually secured for privacy if there are other needy travelers in residence.”
My four companions ease after me through the small doorway and down the short hall on the other side.
Three inner doors stand on either side. Checking them for signs of being claimed, I push open the second.
The room beyond is small and carefully organized, but still manages to give a sense of comfort. Ardone’s devouts and clerics believe in providing all possible pleasures.
A thick rug covers the floor, with a mat near the door for us to leave our boots on.
Walls in a warm shade of peach surround us.
Shelves mounted on one side hold several rolled sleeping mats and blankets I can tell at a glance will be softer than the rough woolen ones we’ve been huddling in.
Heat trickles into the room from a vent near the ceiling.
Ivy lets out a sigh that seems to contain a century of stress. I turn toward her with a bittersweet pang through my heart that’s both anguish over the burdens she’s had to carry and joy that I can help relieve her of them for just a little while.
“There’s no need for you to use your powers here,” I tell her. “The devouts won’t invade our privacy unless they notice signs of trouble, and no one saw us arrive thanks to your magic. You can simply relax.”
She looks as if she’s suppressing a yawn. “And I need it.”
The anguish I felt digs deeper into my chest. The strain of the past several days shows on her face and in her voice more than any of the rest of us, because it’s taken so much more out of her.
And for reasons I don’t totally understand, I think. I’ve caught a look on her face from time to time that has an almost panicked edge to it when there’s been nothing immediate to fear.
Something we’ll need to address as soon as we’re in a state to.
At an emphatic gurgling sound, Alek clamps his hand over his belly. His face flushes. “Sorry. It’s been a while since we last ate.”
And a while since we ate anything you could call a full meal.
Ivy’s fingers tighten around the small sack she brought back from town, but a different sort of longing crosses her face as she takes in the room. “I feel like I’ve got about ten layers of grime on me that I’d rather not add to my food. I don’t suppose there’s some kind of a bathing room here?”
I grin again, pleased that I can answer that request, and motion her over to a doorway covered with a curtain near the far corner. “I’d imagine they have some sort of accommodations for that…”
As I peer past the curtain, my smile widens. “We’ve got a latrine and a couple of shower stalls. Not as relaxing as a bath, but it’ll get you clean enough. And the temple has provided soap, towels, and robes as well.”
Ivy sets down her cargo and hurries over. “I call first dibs on one of the showers!”
Rheave cocks his head. “Shower? Like rain?”
I laugh. “Quite a bit. If the pipes are set up properly, often with the help of an enchantment, they can convey water to a spot near the ceiling where it sprays down over you. It’s a fairly efficient way of getting washed.”
Stavros undoes his cloak and tosses it over by our boots. “In the army, we frequently had to make do with buckets. I’d call this luxury enough.” Already peeling off his shirt, he heads past the curtain to take the other stall.
When it’s my turn in the shower, I want to linger in the streaming, steamy water until it washes away all my doubts. But that isn’t possible anyway.
I force myself to scrub the rosy-smelling soap over my body and through my hair as quickly as possible, grimacing at the streaks of dirt that swirl down the drain with the water.
I return to the main room to see Ivy swathed in one of the pinkish-beige bathrobes, which on her slight frame falls nearly to her ankles. She’s holding up her one remaining dress.
She looks over at me with a grimace. “The thought of putting this thing back on makes my skin crawl. Maybe we can wash our clothes in the showers too?”
My body recoils at the thought of pulling on my own travel-soiled clothes.
I adjust my robe around me, grateful for the clean fabric against my freshly scrubbed skin.
“I don’t see why not. And if we need something more presentable, a temple like this will have clothes available for the needy.
There are always a few dedicats who are fashionably and also charitably inclined. ”
Ivy lets out a rough chuckle. “Now we’re the needy.”
“Hmm,” Alek says, emerging from the bathing area rubbing his thick hair with a towel. “I think we’ve contributed enough to Silana’s security to take a little charity in return without feeling guilty about it.”
An avid gasp from beyond the curtain tells us Rheave has discovered how delightful a shower can be after days on the road. We all exchange an amused glance.
Ivy snatches up her sack. “Forget clothes. Let’s eat.”
A low wooden table with folding legs leans against the wall next to the rack of bedding.
Stavros and I set it up on the floor, and we sit around it while Ivy lays out the spread she brought us.
Rheave returns, his curls damp and his eyes gleaming eagerly, just as she’s setting down the last of her scavenging and shopping.
“We found some frost berries in the woods,” he announces. He draws a bundle of the dimpled purple fruit from his discarded cloak, sets them on the table with the rest, and peers at Stavros with a flicker of uncertainty. “You said you like those?”
Stavros blinks at him and then smiles crookedly. “I think everyone should like them. One of Prospira’s few winter blessings. If you haven’t tried them before, they’re a treat.”
Ivy plucks up one of the plump dumplings that form the center of her spread and aims a teasing grin at all of us. “I got these mostly for me, but I’m happy to share.” She taps my knee with an extended foot. “I think the round ones have duck in them, so you should definitely try one of those.”
My mouth is watering just at the word “duck.” We haven’t eaten any meat other than campfire-cooked rabbit and wild birds in over a week.
I haven’t tasted my favorite fowl since we left the college.
I take one of the dumplings she indicated and nudge the cluster of roasted velvor nuts toward Alek. “And I see you were able to find our scholar’s favorite snack.” He practically swooned when we brought a bag of them back to the apartment in Pima.
Alek pops one into his mouth and closes his eyes with a blissful expression before rolling a sugared apricot toward Rheave. “And extra-sweetened fruit. Even the daimon will be happy.”
“I’m glad just to have so much to fill my stomach with,” Rheave says, but his eyes widen when he bites into the apricot. “Oh. That’s very good.”
Stavros pops a few frostberries into his mouth and grabs a dumpling for himself. Ivy takes out one of her knives, gleaming from its own washing, and starts slicing a hunk of cheese into equal pieces so we can all enjoy it.
For a few minutes, we’re totally immersed in soothing our long-empty guts.
As I relish a third duck dumpling, the rich gravy flooding my mouth, my gaze drifts around the table. A warmth far deeper than the temple’s heating system can offer rises up inside me.
We’re in an unfamiliar room with few possessions to call our own other than the clothes we’ve worn ragged, but there’s a glow of happiness in the air all the same. For what we do have. For making it this far.
And for having each other.
The stress of our journey could have put us at each other’s throats, but instead we’ve only grown closer. I couldn’t imagine men much more different from me than the three sharing this table, and yet I also can’t imagine anyone I’d rather share this moment with.
Ivy hums contentedly as she nibbles at her portion of cheese and tips her head toward Stavros. “Did you find out anything at all useful from your scouting?”
He pauses to swallow a bite of dumpling. “I could see the troops here are sparse on the ground. I assume some were sent up to Eppun, but I’d still have expected more.”
Alek frowns. “That’s bad news if the scourge sorcerers are arriving tomorrow evening.”
Rheave echoes his expression. “I told the men to warn the king.”