“Our record of successes against champions of Tomanak doesn’t exactly inspire me with unbounded faith in your confidence, Paratha,” Varnaythus said coldly. “And you might want to consider this, too. A year ago, there were seventeen champions of Tomanak in all of Norfressa. Now there are twenty, and four of them—four, Paratha; twenty percent of the total—are here on the Wind Plain or in Hurgrum. Do you think that’s just some sort of minor coincidence? Or do you think there might just be a reason? Because I don’t think it’s an accident, and I do think there’s a reason our track record against them has been an unmitigated disaster.”
“Oh, no, Varnaythus—not our record, but yours. And, in fairness to Jerghar, he had to deal with the Bloody Hand. And, or so the Spider tells us, with a second champion. A courser champion, no less.” She shook her head. “Against someone as powerful as the Bloody Hand, anything might be possible. And if Jerghar had no reason to expect that he faced not one, but two champions, then small wonder he lost. But we face only one, and the weakest of the three.” She snorted and spat contemptuously over the wall. “This one is a lawyer at heart, Varnaythus. She craves to serve Justice, to look after the ’little people.’ If it were the Bloody Hand, then I might worry, for he, at least, is a foe to respect. But this one—this Kaeritha—!” She barked a harsh laugh of scorn. “This one we’ll eat, and use the leftover meat to feed the very flames we set out to ignite.”
Varnaythus looked at her for several long, silent seconds, then shrugged.
“Very well. I hope you’re right. But whether you are or not, the responsibility is yours, Paratha—yours and Dahlaha’s. I’ve warned you, as I warned her. I hope your preparations are adequate.”
“They are,” she said with flat assurance.
“I’m delighted to hear it,” he said. “But in the meantime, I’ve done everything I can. From here on, you’re on your own. If your confidence is justified, I’ll see you again in a few days.”
Paratha opened her mouth again, but before she could speak, he was gone. She stood on the battlements, glaring at the empty flagstones on which he’d stood, then growled a curse under her breath and turned to look back out at the road from Kalatha once more.
The trotting rider was much closer now, and Paratha gazed at her for two long minutes with a dark, hungry smile. Then she laughed once, a sound like a frozen branch shattering under the weight of winter ice, and turned away.
“Of course, Dame Kaeritha! Come in, come in! We’ve been expecting you.”
The officer in command of the temple’s largely ceremonial gate guard bowed deeply and swept his arm at the open gate in a welcoming gesture. He straightened to find Kaeritha gazing down at him from Cloudy’s saddle with a quizzical expression and frowned ever so slightly, as if surprised she hadn’t ridden straight past at his invitation.
“Expecting me?” she said, and he cleared his throat.
“Uh, yes, Milady.” He shook himself. “The Voice warned us several days ago that you would be coming to visit us,” he said in a less flustered tone.
“I see.” Kaeritha filed that information away along with the officer’s strong Sothoii accent and the warmth which had infused his own voice as he mentioned the Voice. It was uncommon for a temple of Lillinara in the Empire of the Axe to have its gate guard commanded by a man. It wasn’t precisely unheard of, even there, however, given the small percentage of Axewomen who followed the profession of arms, and she supposed it made even more sense here in the Kingdom of the Sothoii, where even fewer women were warriors. Yet she also saw two war maids in chari and yathu standing behind him, with swords at their hips, crossed bandoliers of throwing stars, and the traditional war maid garrottes wound around their heads like leather headbands. Given the special significance Quaysar held for all war maids, she found it … interesting that the temple’s entire guard force didn’t consist solely of them.
The way the guard commander had spoken of the Voice was almost equally interesting, especially from a native Sothoii. He seemed completely comfortable in the service of a temple not simply dedicated to the goddess of women but intimately associated with the creation of all those “unnatural” war maids. Granted, anyone who would have accepted the position in the first place must be more enlightened than most of his fellow Sothoii males, but there was more than simple acceptance or even approval in his tone. It came far closer to something which might almost have been called … obeisance. For that matter, Kaeritha didn’t much care for the look in his eyes, although she would have been hard put to pin down what it was about it that bothered her.
“Yes, Milady,” the officer continued. “She knew you’d visited Kalatha and Lord Trisu, and she told us almost a week ago that you would be visiting us, as well.” He smiled. “And, of course, she made it abundantly clear that we were to greet you with all of the courtesy due to a champion of the War God.”
Kaeritha glanced at the rest of his guard force: the two war maids she’d already noticed and three more men in the traditional Sothoii cuirass and leather. They were too well trained to abandon their stance of professional watchfulness, but their body language and expressions matched the warmth in their commander’s voice.
“That was very considerate of the Voice,” she said after a moment. “I appreciate it. And she was quite correct; I have come to Quaysar to meet with her. Since she was courteous enough to warn you I was coming, did she also indicate whether or not she would be able to grant me an audience?”
“My instructions were to pass you straight in, and I believe you’ll find Major Kharlan, the commander of the Voice’s personal guards, waiting to escort you directly to her.”
“I see the Voice is as foresightful as she is courteous,” Kaeritha said with a smile. “As are those who serve her and the Goddess here in Quaysar.”
“Thank you for those kind words, Milady.” The officer bowed again, less deeply, and waved at the open gateway once more. “But we all know only serious matters could have brought you this far from the Empire, and the Voice is eager for Major Kharlan to escort you to her.”
“Of course,” Kaeritha agreed, inclining her head in a small, answering bow. “I hope we meet again before I leave Quaysar,” she added, and touched Cloudy gently with her heel.
The mare trotted through the open gate. The tunnel beyond it was longer than Kaeritha had expected. The temple’s defensive wall was clearly thicker than it had appeared from a distance, and the disk of sunlight waiting to welcome her at its farther end seemed tiny and far away. Her shoulders were tight, tension sang in her belly, and she was acutely conscious of the silent menace of the murder holes in the tunnel ceiling as she passed under them. This wasn’t the first time she’d ridden knowingly into what she suspected was an ambush, and she knew she appeared outwardly calm and unconcerned. It just didn’t feel that way from her side.
Major Kharlan was waiting for her, and Kaeritha raised a mental eyebrow as she realized the major was accompanied only by a groom who was obviously there to take care of Cloudy for her. Apparently, whatever the Voice had in mind included nothing so crude as swords in the temple courtyard.
“Milady Champion,” the major murmured, bending her head in greeting. “My name is Kharlan, Paratha Kharlan. Quaysar is honored by your visit.”
The major had a pronounced Sothoii accent, and stood an inch or so taller than Kaeritha herself, but she wore a cuirass over a chain hauberk much like Kaeritha’s own and carried a cavalry saber. If she was a war maid, she was obviously one of the minority who’d trained with more “standard” weapons.