11. Eleven
Chapter 11
I clambered up out of the Sprint’s dark hold and crowded onto the deck with the rest of the crew and passengers. I had only seen Rovileis city, crown jewel of the Cachian Protectorate, as a miniature world in the scrying-bowl. For a backwater girl from Nis-Illous, the size of the real view was enough to take my breath away.
Rovileis, if it were stripped of life, would be a city of beige and bone. Buildings of limestone, marble, and sun-bleached wood lined every street.
But the city was full of life, and with life came color. Dyed flags draped from awnings and washing lines fluttered like banners between windows high above the streets. The wooden carts were painted in mosaic patterns, big wooden wheels rattling down the stone-paved streets of the capital. Nearly every doorway bore a heavy coat of paint, some peeling in the sea air to reveal old colors beneath.
I hesitated at the edge of the dock. Sailors charged past me, coming down from the gangplank with heavy chests and bags and crates. Before me the city stretched so wide it seemed to comprise the whole isle. Above it all, on a hill overlooking the madness, the Cachian Temple gleamed in pillared white marble. There was the head of the Protectorate, the unifying force between the royal courts. Between me and my future lay only the broad maze of an unfamiliar city.
“First time?” asked a burly woman at the end of the dock. She sat on a crate, leaning back on her elbows. “Need a map? Tour? Bodyguard?” The words sounded long and rolling in her mouth; a different way of speaking than we had on Nis.
I shook my head and started towards the road right in front of me, which pointed straight in the direction of the Temple.
In the little towns of Nis-Illous, you couldn't get truly lost. Not so in Rovileis, I quickly learned. Streets twisted and split, following no logic I could discern. More than once I found myself facing a dead end, staring at a row of windows and a little garden where I had expected more road. Twice I was forced to take turns I didn’t want, because an inexplicable need to flee overcame me: a stranger watching me too closely, then a crowd of eerily silent boys who might only have been walking the same way or might have been trailing me.
I crossed a broad city square with a fountain in the center. Despite the noise made by the crowd there, I paused to marvel at the water bubbling from the curling stone leaf-work. It looked like magic, except I could tell it wasn’t—in fact, I’d felt only dull flickers of heat since entering the city. Turning, I saw a man on stilts juggling flaming torches. I covered my ears to dull the noise as I watched, baffled by the sight. It was a strange land I’d come to.
A man knocked into me from behind. I stumbled forward, bumping my head against the shoulder of the woman in front of me. She turned to give me a nasty look, and I decided it was time to move on. It was getting late in the day anyways. I gripped my bag tighter and lengthened my stride.
From the harbor I’d been sure it would only be a half hour’s walk to the Temple, but it took me the entirety of the afternoon. I was footsore and hungry when I at last arrived at the compound walls, built from long panels of wrought iron. The iron made my head feel itchy and unpleasant. How did the Cachian witches stand it? I could feel large amounts of heat on the other side from all the Order’s casters.
The Temple compound was big enough to house a village. Two massive ravens circled overhead, but my attention was focused in front of me, on the shut gate. Two guards stood in front of it wearing the white shroud of the Nameless over their faces, sheer enough that they could see out but I could see only smudges of features. The veils marked them in service of the holy mysteries. Both wore curving swords on their belts and buffed bronze armor that gleamed dark.
I took a deep breath, trying to commit the moment to memory.
“Hello,” I said to the one nearest me, stopping a respectful distance away. “I’m here to join the Order.”
She shifted. I had the strangest sense of being watched by somebody whose eyes I couldn’t see.
“Temple service begins at sunup.”
“I’m not here for service. I’m a witch. I came all the way from Nis-Illous.”
“That’s nice,” she said. “I can’t let you in.”
“But I had a recommendation. They’ll be expecting me.” I frowned.
“Temple service begins at sunup. The gates open then.”
My head was beginning to buzz unpleasantly. The iron felt terrible. The faceless guard was more frustrating than a tangle of knots. This was not how it was supposed to go. I jammed my fist against the side of my face and took a deep breath, focusing on the press of my knuckles instead of the ragged edges of my thoughts.
“But I’m not here for service. I was a student of the seer, Mistress Eudoria,” I said as calmly as I could manage. It wasn’t entirely a lie. Eudoria had taught me a few things, even though I’d only been an assistant.
“Good for you. Temple service—”
“Foreigners,” I heard the other guard mutter.
“But Eudoria —” I started.
“What is this?” A tall man paused on the far side of the gate, power like Eudoria’s coiling around him. “Are you from the seer?”
“Yes.”
“Let her in.” He was as fair skinned as anyone I’d ever seen, with a hooked nose and pale brown hair. It was impossible to guess his age. Maybe fifty. Maybe a hundred.
The guards opened the gate slowly and stood aside. I could still feel them watching me. I stalked through the opening and came face to face with the pale man, who crossed his arms and studied me. Around us were ornate buildings, stone carved in high relief. Small potted trees lined the narrow branching footpaths. They’d covered the pottery with woven, dyed rope; nothing like Nis-Illous where glazed clay reigned supreme.
I could tell there was more iron inside, not just the gate. I’d read in a book once that the Temple compound had whole buildings lined with iron. Safety from long-gone days, and a reminder that the Order were servants of the Protectorate, and not its leaders. This was a seat of politics even more than it was magic.
“We’ve been trying to contact her for days. What news?”
“Oh. She’s…” The words dried up on my tongue. “When the Ward… she was…”
The witch’s eyes flicked back and forth across my face, his expression darkening.
“Gone,” he said quietly, at last, when I found myself unable to finish.
I nodded, lips pressed tight, and fought against the rising tide of emotion. He covered his face with a hand momentarily, then lowered it to his mouth and squinted at me.
“She is not the only one. We hoped otherwise. Since we received a letter from her after it fell…”
My recommendation. He was waiting for an explanation. I cleared my throat, leaving my eyes shut an extra moment in a struggle to clear them of tears.
“She was going to send it. Before…”
“Doubtlessly,” he said, and peered down his nose at me. “Then you mean to tell me there’s no news of the missing one. Who we wrote her of, the night before it fell.”
“Who…?” I shook my head. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I recalled the letter Eudoria had been reading that morning. It had burned with her.
He nodded, lips pressed tight.
“See yourself out, then.”
“Wait. I’m supposed to stay. To join the Temple.”
“I do not think we require your… assistance,” he said, with a cold, diplomatic smile.
Perhaps if I’d arrived while the wild outland magic hung heavy in the air, he would have taken me more seriously—would not have realized just how thin my own burned.
“But Eudoria sent me. She was going to. I’m good with spells.”
“We are busy with many crises. Be on your way.” He turned, and began to walk, leaving me to the guards.
“Let me prove myself,” I begged. He didn’t turn. “ Tell me how I can prove myself,” I yelled, as he walked down one of the Temple’s narrow roads. “I’m meant for this. There must be a way.”
“Perhaps if you can figure out what happened to the Ward,” the witch said over his shoulder, with an expression that looked smug and laughing all at once.
“You mean you don’t know?” I called. One of the guards took me by the shoulder and dragged me gently back out the gate, then swung it shut. “You must know something. You must have theories,” I called through the angry sting of the iron bars.
“You’ve been dismissed,” the female guard informed me. “You can leave now. Farewell.”
Someday everyone would laugh about it—how Meda the great enchantress had been turned away from the Temple the first time she approached it.
Who was I kidding? I was powerless. I turned and walked away.
Now that the sun was falling the city seemed even more treacherous than before. Its once-white walls turned dusky gray, its shadows long, its strangers menacing. My stomach growled. I passed a sunken garden visible through the slats of a fence. There, at lantern-lit tables spaced among the greenery, couples and small groups sipped from tiny cups and ate off little plates.
I kept walking. I needed somewhere I could find a bed as well as a meal. A block later my eyes lit on a wooden sign hanging over a door with a painting of a cup and a bed. Relieved, I pushed open the door.
Inside I found a fire-lit tavern with white walls and a low beamed ceiling. Plush armchairs ringed the hearth, and two long tables took up the main length of the room, crowded with patrons, food, and drinks. A woman stood behind the short bar, leaning on the counter and nibbling at the end of a reed pen.
It smelled like stewed vegetables and hot, spiced wine. My stomach growled. I quickly stepped to the counter and caught the woman’s eye.
“Excuse me? I’m looking for a place to sleep. And eat.”
The woman nodded and pushed herself upright. Her looped black braids fell to her shoulders before doubling back up against her crown. Her full lips were painted a dark shade of red, and a high-cropped vest gathered her billowing dress tight against her bust. I rather liked her look, though it seemed unusual. Nobody in Nis-Illous styled themselves that way.
“It’s fish and peppers tonight.”
I considered this. Fish and peppers was prepared a few ways, at least in Nis, not all of which I liked.
“In a clear broth?” I asked. She nodded. “Fine.”
“Do you want a view?”
“I don’t care.” It was difficult to care about anything just then.
“One argor, two argit. Your choice of wine or juice. Four argit more and you can see the Etegen from your room.”
“What?” My eyes must have popped out of my face. “That’s obscene. ” It cost more than my trip on the Sea-Sprint .
The woman blinked at me.
“Not from here?” she guessed. I felt my anger turn to embarrassment. With that simple phrase she’d made clear that I simply didn’t understand the way of things.
“I’m from Nis-Illous,” I muttered. In response, I got a raised eyebrow.
“If you want cheap rooms, try the washerman’s cove.” She started to turn away.
“Is that another inn?”
“It’s a neighborhood. Twenty-minute walk.”
I thought about it for a moment, biting my lip. Two nights here would clean out my purse entirely. If I were even capable of understanding the Ward, it certainly wouldn’t happen that quickly. But nor could I just turn around and go home. The witch had offered me a path in, no matter how impossible.
Was I really willing to risk a twenty-minute walk in the dark, through the strange and twisting city? I’d probably get lost all over again, and for all I knew if I made it to an inn unharmed it would just be to save a single argit. I was starving, I was tired. I could find a way to make money tomorrow. Or I could go back to the Temple and beg them to at least give me board and access to their library while I wracked my brain.
“I’ll take it. Ridiculous,” I muttered. She turned back to me with a stiff smile. I perched on one of the bar stools and hauled my bag into my lap, flipping it open. I pawed through the rumpled clothes for my purse.
My heart began to sink. Wooden bird, hair oil, crumpled dress. Tooth-cleaning paste, wooden bird, blouse. Underthings, dirty dress, hair oil again. Wooden bird.
“Sorry, I know I have…”
“Take your time.” She leaned on her elbows again, reed pen dangling out of her mouth.
“How much was it again?” I asked, stalling as I rummaged.
“One argor and two argit.”
With an exasperated sigh I slipped off the stool and crouched on the floor. There was nothing to do but unpack my bag inelegantly on the ground. If the money purse was in there, I was going to find it. And it had to be in there. I tried not to think about the stares I was probably drawing from tavern’s crowd.
My pale-yellow dress. The little carved bird from Eudoria’s workroom. A pair of walnut-brown wool stockings. Gray underthings. But no coin purse. Panic rose in my throat. I’d had it getting on the Sea-Sprint . Surely I’d had it getting off the ship, too? Except I hadn’t purchased anything all day.
“Oh, sweet mysteries,” I moaned, and buried my face in my hands for a moment. I took a deep, shaking breath against my palms. Could life get any worse? The urge to stay curled up on the floor was overwhelming. Fighting against it, I quickly shoved everything back into the bag and straightened. Now going home wasn’t even an option.
I found myself wishing Kalcedon was there. He’d call me an idiot and shake his head at me, but I wouldn’t even care. He’d help in the end; he always did.
The woman was still looking at me, now with both eyebrows slightly raised and no smile on her face.
“Apparently, I have been robbed,” I told her flatly. She pursed her lips and said nothing. I cleared my throat.
To make matters worse, we were no longer alone. A tall, dark skinned man stepped up to the bar and set down an empty cup. He folded his plump hands in front of him on the counter, flashing an absurd number of gold rings.
Just what I needed. An audience. I stared straight at the woman, ignored the man, and barreled on.
“Might there be—is there work I could do?” If I had more than a grain of power, earning my keep would have been no issue. “I could scrub pots, or make beds, or sweep, I don’t care. And I don’t need a room, really. I’d sleep in the kitchen.” My tone dipped with every shameful word, and I tightened my hands around the strap of my bag, squeezing hard.
“We don’t need help. If you can’t pay, there’s the door,” the woman said with a nod. Her voice was cold.
“Oh, here,” the man beside me said. His hands vanished from the counter for a moment, and then he set down a stack of argor in front of the woman. More than his cup would cost to fill. More than a round for the whole tavern, surely. I turned to look at him.
He seemed young, twenty at oldest, and chubby. No hint of heat; he was fully human. The gaudy gold rings weren’t limited to his hands. They marched up one ear, bright against his deep brown skin. A ribbon held back a tumble of dense black curls that would have fallen just past his shoulders if let loose.
Even his shirt had gold embroidery around the cuffs. Was he made of money?
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He turned my way and raised an eyebrow.
His skin was free of blemishes, his lips full. Long-lashed brown eyes looked me once over before the corner of his lips tilted up at one edge. He looked too young to be a diplomat. Maybe he was a visiting royal, though he didn’t have a guard. Perhaps he was a wealthy merchant’s son, I decided. Very wealthy.
“Another round for me,” he told the woman. “And whatever it is my friend wanted.”