Kirsha the Immaculate didn't sound especially promising, nor did High Priest Senesson of Southmarket. The Temple of True Healing at least gave him some idea what services it might provide, but was not what he wanted.
He began walking down the street, looking at the window displays – unlike the other streets, many of the buildings here didn't have ground-floor windows, but some did. He ignored shrines and fountains and altars; those didn't tell him anything. Many of the businesses were quite elaborately decorated, with gods and goddesses painted on doors or panels, with glittering tapestries hung in windows; bright enamel and gleaming gilt were everywhere. Shrines were common on most streets in Ethshar, but here they proliferated wildly, with idol-filled niches seemingly every few feet, sometimes two or three built into a single wall one above the other.
Amid all this gaudy spectacle one shop caught his attention, and he stopped.
It was indeed a shop, rather than a temple, with a relatively plain wooden door painted purple, flanked by largely-empty display windows curtained with maroon velvet. If not for the signboard Emmis might have thought the proprietor was some other sort of magician entirely, since after all, there was no law saying that only theurgists could operate businesses on Priest Street. It was merely custom for the various sorts of magician to sort themselves out into individual streets, and several streets did mix multiple varieties.
This shop was so plain in comparison to its neighbors that it seemed to belong somewhere else entirely – among the warlocks, perhaps.
The sign above the door, however, read CORINAL THE THEURGIST, and a gilt-edged placard in the left-hand window proclaimed, "Practical Prayers for Many Purposes: We Can Summon More Than A Score of Deities!" Smaller print at the bottom added, "If We Cannot Aid You Directly, We Offer An Inexpensive Referral Service."
That sounded like exactly what Emmis needed. He crossed the street and tried the door.
It opened easily, and he peered in to what appeared to be a deserted study. Three high-backed chairs were arranged around a low table, and the walls beyond were lined with bookshelves. Although it was full daylight outside most of the room was dim – the curtains were drawn. An oil lamp was burning in a bracket above the table, however, casting a pool of light.
"Hello?" Emmis called.
A head suddenly appeared around the side of the chair most nearly facing away from him, as a white-haired old man turned to look at him.
"Oh, hello, there," the old man said. "Come in!"
There was a thump as he closed a thick book, another thump as he set it on the table, and by the time Emmis and Ahan had stepped into the shop the old man was rising from his chair and approaching them, hand extended. He was short, but solidly built, despite his obviously advanced age.
"I'm Corinal," he said. "How can I help you?"
Emmis blinked at him. "This looks more like a library than a magician's shop," he said.
"I like to read," Corinal said mildly.
Emmis nodded. "Of course," he said. "But you're a theurgist?"
The old man smiled crookedly. "It says so on my sign, certainly, and wouldn't it be foolish to advertise that if it weren't so?"
Emmis shook the offered hand, and returned the smile a bit sheepishly. "I had a question or two," he said.
"Questions I can answer, or questions requiring divine assistance?"
"Probably requiring divine assistance," Emmis said.
Corinal nodded. "I'll see what I can do to get you your answers, then." He glanced at Ahan, who had closed the front door and was now standing with his back to it. "Might I ask one of my own first, though?"
"I… yes, of course," Emmis said.
"Why is this soldier here?"
Emmis turned up an empty palm. "Ask him," he said.
Corinal turned to Ahan. "Well?"
Ahan cleared his throat. "Lord Ildirin has ordered me to accompany this man wherever he goes, to guard him against attack, to prevent him from committing any illegal acts, and to report back on his actions."
"Bodyguard, jailer, and spy, all on just two feet, then?" Corinal asked. "And why does Lord Ildirin care what becomes of him?"
"I do what I'm told, sir; I didn't ask why."
"This is Lord Ildirin, the overlord's brother… no, I'm sorry, the new overlord's uncle?"
"Yes, sir."
He turned back to Emmis. "Do you know why Lord Ildirin has decided you require such attention?"
"Because I work for the Vondish ambassador to Ethshar, and stopped an assassination attempt on him yesterday."
"Oh, really? That's charming! Honestly, I'm delighted to hear that. A Vondish ambassador, you say? From that upstart empire south of the Small Kingdoms?"
"Yes."
"And Lord Ildirin thinks the assassins might decide to retaliate against you for your interference, or perhaps you're secretly working with the assassins, or perhaps there aren't any assassins and this is all part of some complicated scheme you're involved in, or all of these at once, and so he's assigned this fine fellow to follow you around and make your life difficult until he's more nearly satisfied that he knows what's happening?"
"Something like that," Emmis agreed.
"And you've decided to come ask me your questions anyway? Then you have nothing to hide?"
Emmis grimaced. "I haven't done anything wrong," he said. "And I thought I'd have an easier time dealing with you with this guard at my elbow than I would trying to dicker with cabinet-makers and cutlers."
"You are wise beyond your years, young man. Come in, sit down, both of you, and tell me what you want to know." He gestured toward the chairs.
A moment later the three of them were seated around the table; Emmis could see that the book Corinal had been reading was entitled The Pursuit of the Shatra. He had no idea what a shatra was, or why anyone would pursue one; the book looked very old.
"Now, what did you want to ask me?" Corinal asked.
"Ah. The ambassador has rented a house on Through Street in Allston, and the house has a shrine by the door. We wanted to know whose shrine it is, and what would be appropriate for us to do with it."
"Oh, an easy one. That's exactly the sort of question best answered by Unniel the Discerning, goddess of information about theurgy, sorcery, and certain other topics. I can summon her for half a round of silver."
Emmis automatically said, "I'll pay two bits," but in fact he was relieved. As magical prices went, four bits in silver for anything was a bargain.
"Three bits in silver and one of copper," Corinal countered.
"Three silver bits," Emmis said. "No copper."
"Don't expect me to be so flexible on more difficult matters, should any arise," Corinal said, reaching up for something from one of the shelves. "Unniel is easy, though, so you have a deal. Tell me about this shrine, and just where it is." He pulled out a thin book that had a quill inserted in it like a bookmark, set it on the table, then reached up again and found a small bottle of ink.
"It's on Through Street just a few doors east of Arena Street," Emmis said, watching as Corinal opened the book and laid it flat on the table. The right-hand page was blank; the left-hand one had a few illegible words hand-written at the top. "It's a yellow house we rent from Kather of Allston, and the shrine is just to the right of the front door."
Corinal uncorked the ink bottle, dipped the quill, and began writing in the book. "Go on," he said.
"The idol is a goddess – or a woman – in a green robe and a golden crown. Her hands are down and open, as if she's giving something, but she isn't smiling. There's an offering bowl at her feet, but there's nothing in it but dust."
"I think I know this one without even asking," Corinal said, nodding. "You can have my guess for two bits, or I'll ask the goddess Unniel for you for three."