John reached the black door quickly. It opened into a small storm cellar. Big casks of fruit gave off the sharp scent of fermentation. Smooth clay jars lined the shelves.
He climbed the narrow stairs up to the frigid open air. Snow still covered the ground. Icicles hung from the bare branches of the surrounding trees. The cold brought John back to his senses somewhat. It was winter outside the Warren and he wasn’t even wearing a shirt.
Then he saw Lyyn standing between two gnarled trees. His thick brown jacket hung open but his hands were hidden in the pockets.
"Didn’t your girlfriend come with you?" Lyyn asked.
John knew that Lyyn meant Eriki’yu. He didn’t respond. Instead he concentrated on his surroundings. If Lyyn was standing in front of him, then Lyyn’s two friends were probably somewhere behind him. John heard the soft crunch of snow to his left. He glanced to the nearest tree and noticed the weird shape of its shadow.
John charged the man behind the tree. Lyyn started after John, but he wasn’t fast enough. John caught hold of the man behind the tree, punched him once, hard, and then hurled him into Lyyn. The two of them crumpled into the snow.
Suddenly John felt a rough cord bite into his neck. The man behind John twisted the rope tighter around his throat. John brought his hands up to the rope and focused his will against its fibrous structure. It burned and split apart under his fingers.
John spun and grabbed the man behind him by the front of his bulky coat. He stared at John in horror. John hefted him off his feet, slammed him into a tree trunk, and then threw him to the ground like a rag doll. The man groaned when he hit the snow.
"Stay down," John growled and the man lay still.
John turned back. Lyyn and his other friend had regained their feet. John strode towards them. The friend bolted back towards the dark shadow of the chapel. John let him go. It was Lyyn he wanted.
"You think I’m scared of you?" Lyyn dug his hand into his jacket pocket. He found something and smiled. "I’m not. Because I know what you are, Jahn. You’re an animal. A filthy, twisted, boy-fucking animal."
John scowled at Lyyn. Then a movement behind Lyyn caught John’s attention. Three dark figures were approaching from the direction of the chapel. John strained to make out their features. They were the priests: Lam, Daru, and Giryyn.
"Don’t pretend like you can’t even fucking see me!" Lyyn shouted.
John’s attention snapped back to Lyyn in time to see him raise a pistol. John stared at the gun. Firearms were far too expensive for the Fai’daum to distribute to tradesmen like Lyyn. He had to have stolen it from the armory.
"Now who’s scared!" Lyyn demanded. He grinned at John. "Get down on your knees, dog. You’re going to beg me for your filthy, worthless life."
John could see the three priests’ faces clearly now. He wondered if they could see the pistol in Lyyn’s hands.
"On your knees, you bag of shit!" Lyyn shouted.
"No," John replied calmly.
"You think I won’t do it?" Lyyn pulled back the hammer of the pistol. John knew he would open fire. He could see the determination in Lyyn’s face. Still, John couldn’t bring himself to kneel before the man. He stood his ground, staring directly at Lyyn. He wondered if he could burn Lyyn the way he had burned the rope. He lifted his hand.
Suddenly the air between them seemed to shudder. An instant later Ravishan burst out from nowhere. Lyyn staggered back. He fired his pistol, but the shot went wide. Ravishan punched two fingers into Lyyn’s neck. Blood spewed up from Lyyn’s throat. Lyyn collapsed into the snow. Steam rose from his blood as it spread across the snow.
Ravishan quickly retreated to John’s side. Only a yard ahead of them the three priests stood staring.
Chapter Eighty-Four
John glanced down at Lyyn’s body. His eyes were wide and fixed on some distant point in the pale sky. His throat gaped open like a gory mouth. Dark blood pooled around his head, melting through the snow. John expected to feel sick, but he didn’t. He was growing used to the sight of dead bodies.
He stepped closer to Ravishan. The three priests stood exactly where they had when Lyyn had fallen. All three of them watched Ravishan as if they couldn’t tear their eyes from him.
"Are we going to have to fight our way out of here?" Ravishan whispered.
"Not yet," John replied. He raised his hands and made the Payshmura sign of peace.
Very slowly, Giryyn returned the hand sign.
"Ji sent word that you were in trouble, Jahn." Giryyn hardly raised his voice, but it carried easily through the silence.
"Yes, I was. Thank you for coming," John replied.
Though Giryyn spoke to him, John noted that all three of the priests kept their eyes on Ravishan, who returned their wary gazes with an expression of defiance.
"This is Ravishan," John said. "He has come as a friend to the Fai’daum."
For several moments there was utter silence. A thin cold wind blew through the bare branches of the trees and stirred the snow on the ground. John shuddered.
"Will you come with us to the chapel?" Giryyn spoke calmly and evenly. His gaze never left Ravishan. "Ji will join us there."
John started forward but Ravishan didn’t move. Glancing back, he saw Ravishan eyeing the priests with suspicion that bordered on open hostility.
"Can you trust them?" Ravishan whispered.
John wasn’t sure, but the last thing he wanted was more fighting. Clearly, the priests were waiting for some sign of Ravishan’s friendly intentions.
"I don’t think they’ll try anything," John said.
"I’ve murdered one of their men."
"Yes, but Lyyn was breaking two major Fai’daum laws. I think you’ll be safe, especially if Ji speaks for you."
"Will she?"
"Absolutely."
"Even now?"
"Yes," John said firmly. "Look, I need to get out of the cold. The chapel is close."
Ravishan nodded. He unbuttoned his coat and draped it over John’s bare shoulders, then walked with John past the priests into the chapel. Inside, the fire radiated heat and cast golden light across the stone floor and wooden walls. The statue of Parfir smiled down with vacant benevolence. John stopped in front of the fire and warmed his hands. Ravishan stayed close. His skin looked tawny in the warm light.
The three priests followed John and Ravishan inside. Giryyn spoke briefly with the other two priests at the door. Daru and Lam withdrew to the backrooms. Giryyn approached the fireplace where John and Ravishan stood. He moved slowly and fluidly, as if he were approaching a wild animal.
Ravishan watched him. There was a hardness in his expression that seemed to warrant Giryyn’s caution. John suddenly realized that Ravishan’s tension was fueled as much by Giryyn’s robes as it was by the thought that he was a Fai’daum – perhaps more so. The austere figure Giryyn presented was one Ravishan instinctively associated with brutal punishment.
"That man of yours tried to kill Jahn," Ravishan said suddenly. "He had a pistol aimed right at him."
"I saw him point the pistol." Giryyn stopped a yard or so from Ravishan. "Lyyn had no right to behave as he did."
"I won’t accept punishment for his death," Ravishan stated.
"I doubt that I could do any such thing even if I were so inclined," Giryyn said. "And I am not."
Ravishan relaxed a little. His gaze shifted from Giryyn. He held his hands up to the fire and studied his surroundings.
"Who worships here?" Ravishan didn’t look at Giryyn but instead gazed up at the statue of Parfir.
"Anyone who wishes to," Giryyn replied. "The fighters often come for blessings before they are sent out. We Fai’daum are not the godless degenerates that the high and holy would have you believe us to be."