Выбрать главу

At her command Eagle Eye spread his broad wings and glided in, silent as an owl descending on its prey. The low wall surrounding the Temple of Elir-Sana was decorated by brass chimes. The griffon’s rear claws missed the chimes by inches, and he alighted inside the temple enclosure, Kerian dismounted, a little dizzied by the sudden cessation of motion after such a long flight. She bent her knees and stretched her back, glad to be on firm ground again. She led Eagle Eye to a small pool of water in the courtyard and let him drink. When he finished, she fed him from the store of food in one saddlebag. He caught the skinned rabbit she tossed and bolted it down in a single gulp. She threw him another, the last. It was a lot of meat for the hungry elves in Inath-Wakenti to sacrifice, but it wouldn’t do for her mission to fail because of Eagle Eye’s hunger. Her own pangs she ignored.

Tying the griffon to a stanchion by the pool, Kerian headed for the temple’s entrance. As she did so, she heard a scuffling sound and saw movement on one of the buildings outside the wall. Something darted away into the shadows. She stared at the spot a long time. Was it an errant husband, a prowling cat, or a spy? Unable to discern more, Kerian hurried on.

The temple door had no knocker. Instead, a brass chime, gracefully formed, hung on the doorpost. Kerian struck it once. The sound was lovely but faint. As she started to ring it again, the door swung inward. A young acolyte stood in the opening, a fat candle in one hand.

“Who calls at such an ill-fated hour?” she grumbled.

“I have urgent business with your holy mistress. Let me in please.”

“The holy lady sees no one at this hour—”

Firmly but gently, Kerian put a hand on the acolyte’s chest and pushed her back through the deep portal.

“I’ve no time for manners. The lives of thousands are at stake.” Not to mention the life of her brave, misguided husband. “I would not intrude otherwise. Rouse your mistress now, or I’ll do it myself.”

The girl eyed her silently. The Lioness had left her heavy cloak on Eagle Eye’s saddle. The acolyte saw a leather-clad tattooed Kagonesti whose short, burnished gold hair stood out in disarray around a face chapped brick-red by the wind. Despite the weariness that darkened Kerian’s brown eyes, the girl also saw the resolve in them.

“Very well.” The acolyte departed, her white geb swirling around her ankles as she strode swiftly away.

Alone Kerian attempted to contain her impatience. Elir-Sana might be a Khurish deity, but Kerian would not defile her house by stomping to and fro, much as she might itch to do just that. Another short, thick candle provided the only light in the antechamber. The air was as Kerian remembered it—clean and fresh, unlike the incense-heavy atmosphere in most shrines—and she could hear the gentle rise and fall of singing, muffled by the thick stone walls However late the hour, the Temple of Elir-Sana was not sleeping.

When she rested a hand on her sword hilt, another thought occurred to her: weapons were not allowed here. She unbuckled her sword belt and wrapped the belt around the scabbard. Her desire not to offend ended there. She tucked the sword beneath one arm. She wouldn’t surrender her blade.

A quartet of priestesses arrived. Older than the girl who had answered the door, each carried a wooden staff as thick as her wrist. Although they leaned on the staffs like walking sticks, Kerian had no doubt the priestesses had been summoned in case the temple required protection. The four didn’t speak, apparently content to stand and stare at her forever. She could barely restrain herself. If Sa’ida didn’t come soon, she would search the stone pile room by room.

“It is not lawful to bring weapons within.”

Kerian recognized the low, slightly husky voice immediately. Sa’ida, high priestess of Elir-Sana, appeared out of the gloom, trailed by the young doorkeeper. The stern look on the holy lady’s face changed to astonishment as she took in the sight of her late-night visitor.

“Lady Kerianseray?” she exclaimed. “Venea said an armed elf had entered. She didn’t say it was you!”

“I didn’t introduce myself.”

Sa’ida dismissed the somber foursome of priestesses. “You surprise me. I never thought to see you again.”

“I surprise myself, Holy Mistress.” Kerian’s gaze flickered toward the acolyte. Taking the hint, Sa’ida sent Venea away.

The last time priestess and Kagonesti warrior had met, the elves still dwelled in the tent settlement by the city wall. Gilthas had sent Kerian to learn what Sa’ida, leader of the esteemed priestesses of Elir-Sana, might know of the purportedly mythical Valley of the Blue Sands. In the temple courtyard, Kerian and her escort, Hytanthas Ambrodel, had been set upon by murderous Khurs. Sa’ida herself had identified the men as followers of the Torghan sect; she recognized the crimson condor tattoo that marked the would-be killers.

When they were alone, Kerian drew a deep breath and said, “I am sorry to intrude, but I come on a vital mission for my people—to ask you to come back with me to the Valley of the Blue Sands.”

To forestall the expected argument, she gave the priestess no time to reply, but immediately launched into an explanation of the valley’s haunted nature, how no animals lived there, and that thousands of elves were slowly starving.

“It is a sad tale, but I’m no farmer,” Sa’ida said when Kerian finally paused.

“You’re a healer, and many are sick. You have the power of holy magic. You can banish the spirits that keep animal life from flourishing.” Kerian swallowed, fighting her emotions. “And you can save the Speaker of the Sun and Stars:’

She described Gilthas’s illness and explained the elf healers could do little more than slow the human malady’s inevitable victory. Since the Speaker had most likely contracted the disease in Khurinost, didn’t Sa’ida have an obligation to help him overcome it?

The priestess shook her head. “You have my sympathy, lady, and as always, my admiration for your courage, but I cannot leave the sacred confines of the temple for so long. I took an oath to dwell here.”

“You need be gone only a few days.” Kerian told her that Eagle Eye was waiting in the courtyard. He would take them both there and back in short order.

“Fly!” Sa’ida paled. “Human beings are not meant to fly!”

The Lioness dryly agreed with her. “But in this case you must make an exception. I beg of you.”

“I cannot,” Sa’ida said, not without regret. “I am sorry.”

Kerian persisted employing all the arguments she had marshaled during the long flight south and repeatedly assuring the priestess that Eagle Eye would bring her back to the temple as soon as possible. But Sa’ida would not be budged. The situation in Khuri-Khan was volatile, she explained. Even if her vows did not preclude it, her absence at such a time might be used as an opening for greater violence. She sympathized with the elves’ predicament. She offered to prepare special nostroms for the Speaker, but she would not go with the Lioness to the forbidden valley.