thirty-eight #3
“You… are.” Had Mira told her? Sulim was under the impression that the only person who knew about their romantic relationship was Master Ramaron Marlow, a man she had yet to meet but had heard plenty about.
Mira adores him, I guess. Sulim didn’t notice anything when researching him, other than he was the son of “that guy” who wrote “that book.” “Well, then.”
“Forgive any of our intrusions, Ms. Sulim. We will be heading out soon to secure a room at the—”
“There you are.” Even Sulim was startled when she heard Sonall’s voice behind her as he came through the Temple doors.
He only had eyes for her, but everyone else around them caught their breaths in deep, noticeable gasps.
What’s that about? “Glad my instincts were correct. I just got news that the chief is…”
He stopped talking as he peered over Sulim’s shoulder.
But when she turned around, Kema had run to one of the pews, grabbed her bags, and hustled toward the door. “Who’s that?”
Sulim waited until Kema went through the door and Hannu teleported after her. “More julah in town. Apparently, they’re here to help Mira with something. They are… quite strange. And knew who I was, for some reason.”
“That’s julah for you. I was under the impression that Mira was the most normal one. Something about living for thousands of years and thinking about sorcery scrambles brains.”
“Uh-huh. Anyway, what’s the news about the chief?”
Sonall motioned behind him, as if he wanted Sulim to follow him. “She’s in the infirmary. Apparently, she hit her head when looking for something in her office. Man, she was acting weird earlier.”
“A concussion? Or something more serious?”
“No idea. Giselle’s the one who told me. So, if you need her, she’s hanging out down at the infirmary with our glorious leader.”
Mira chose that moment to return, appearing in the middle of the room with her hand rubbing the front of her face. It wasn’t until she finished blowing air through her lips and slamming her fists on her hips that she realized Sulim and Sonall were standing at the end of the aisle near the entrance.
“Great. Just who I wished to see.” Mira pointed at Sulim. “If you don’t mind, there’s something incredibly important I need to discuss with you.”
“Me? Just me?”
“Well, yes.”
Sonall held up his hands. “I can take a hint. See you at dinner?”
“Sure. Find out what you can about the chief for me.”
“Maybe I will, maybe I’ll get distracted.”
Once he left, Sulim said, “He’ll get distracted.”
There were two gambling parlors, one brothel, and a juicer on the way back to the fortress.
Sulim always hoped he would prioritize a refreshing and healthy drink made right there in front of the buyer, but no.
He’d get some local jungle fruit juice and head straight to the gambling parlor that favored him that week.
The man liked his private card games since he graduated from the dice pits in the fortress.
“Sulim.”
Only then did Sulim realize that Mira looked tired enough to pass out. Except, based on the clarity in her eyes, she reserved some energy to tell Sulim whatever she needed to know.
“Upstairs. I’ll meet you there.” Mira waved her hand at the Temple doors, locking and warding them, before teleporting—presumably upstairs.
Any other time, and Sulim would have headed straight up.
Instead, she wandered toward the altar, lighting an unused candle with a lit one and offering it at the High Priestess’s feet.
She said a short prayer, which always felt strange now, considering she was sleeping with the Ascended woman’s daughter.
But now seemed like a pertinent time.
I don’t know what’s going on. Sulim lowered her hands but kept her eyes closed for a moment longer. But I would appreciate even the slightest bit of guidance right now.
She opened her eyes and beheld that every candle on the altar was now lit. Including the ones she hadn’t touched.
Sulim looked around. Mira wasn’t there. Nor were the other julah who had come to town. They were the only ones who could telekinetically light a candle, she supposed.
When she glanced back up at the statue of the High Priestess, she swore that the carved irises in her stony eye sockets now pointed downward so they looked directly at her.
Although her body wanted to shudder, Sulim stood still, drinking in that doll-like demeanor that offered her the adoration of a loving mother and the protection of a great and mighty soldier.
There were no voices in her head. Sulim did not have some grand, religious experience. But she knew those eyes had moved, that the candles had lit, and she was not alone.
Indeed, she was not.
Out of the corner of her suspicious eye, she saw a woman. Tall. Filled-out dress. Dark hair and blue eyes. Eyes so blue that they glowed.
Sulim knew that if she moved too much, this woman, who must have been behind this sorceric trickery, would disappear.
“Who are you?” she breathed.
The woman slightly moved, but did not say a word. That was Sulim’s cue to hurry up the stairs and to Mira, who had something important to tell her.
But nothing could prepare Sulim for the bombastic fable her girlfriend soon told her. All while a pair of blue, glowing eyes hovered just over Sulim’s shoulder.