Help

As they walked Charyic made the small almost unnoticeable gesture for help, again and again. She made it until they reached the temple and were led inside. The temple was the largest she’d ever seen. Robbing temples was frowned on but as she looked around at the altars she thought perhaps the god of thieves might be willing to look the other way as long as he got a sizable cut of this.

A smiling priestess greeted the group of Light Bringers flanked by several more and offered them a chance to kneel before the altar of Isemal and pray. Miryil, Erech, and Ivhir bowed deeply to the woman and moved away as the four surrounding her flanked Charyic. Charyic eyed the priestess distrustfully.

The priestess smiled warmly, “You are, yourself, an offering, blessed of Anyk. But it would please the gods if you wished to leave offerings and give thanks.”

Charyic gave her a look of contempt.

The woman’s smile faltered.

Miryil had not gone far, allowing Erech and Ivhir to pray first, and she spoke almost cheerfully, “She believes the blessing of Anyk to be a curse. She refuses to give thanks for it and she is incurring the just punishment for her sins. She must be kept gagged until she sings for the Holy Father. I doubt she’ll survive long after that.”

The priestess sighed and looked grieved. “Your compassion is lacking, Bringer of Light. But there will be time to persuade her of her folly later. After you have prayed you both have an audience with the Prince of Cearazon. He will be joining us shortly.” Her look to Miryil was pointed.

Charyic sighed, looking at the altars again. She’d been raised, never leave an offering for Malies unless you wish to meet the headsman’s axe. Anyk was an adulterous wife and best avoided, Ayil was always good to have on your side, but “‘ware the Maiden of Mischief, she’ll kiss you and she’ll cut you in the same embrace,” was the common warning. Laeros was toasted to often but they’d never gone to his shrine. Father said he’d approve of drinking the money more than he would of spending it for a stuffy shrine visit. Iotl was a goddess for hunters and farmers, she’d come from thieves and had no use for her. Ynis and Umis, the sweet sisters, had a shrine in every home. Her mother had always kept bread and ribbons on theirs. And Isemal was no thief’s friend, you shouldn’t spit on the vengeful b*****d’s altar but there was no thief who would ever leave an offering of their own free will.

Seeing her looking over the altars the priestess asked again, “Are you certain you don’t wish to leave offerings? They will be provided for you.”

Charyic tilted her head thoughtfully. She looked back at the priestess and made a writing motion with her bound hands.

The priestess beamed and called for paper. After Charyic wrote her short list she waited. The small knife, dark bread, colorful ribbons, and bottle of blackberry wine were all brought with surprising haste.

Charyic went to Ayil first. The people here had only given her sweets. The Maiden of Mischief might cut you with a knife you gave her, but she could cut your enemies too, and that was worth the risk. Charyic untied the gag and kissed the blade before laying it on the altar among the confections.

The Light Bringers looked wary, Charyic could tell they wanted her to put the gag back on again immediately but she had no intention of putting it on willingly. She gave the wine to Laeros, thinking fondly of her father, and the bread and ribbons to Ynis and Umis thinking of her mother and for a moment missing her home bitterly. Not the slums she’d grown up in, but the people.

When the local Lord had grown tired of the slums and wanted to change the reputation of Belasenden he’d hired Light Bringers to drive out everyone in the slums. Bring light to a dark city. Old, sick, poor, thief or not. The quarter was to be razed for a city garden. It might have been as lovely as he’d hoped if there hadn’t been a fire shortly after the homes had been destroyed.

The city burned. No one knew exactly how it started, but the fire leveled nearly everything that had been left standing. Having emptied his pockets for the Light Bringers and spent so much on clearing the rubble of the slums, the Lord had precious little to use to rebuild. Belasenden had been largely abandoned, nearly everyone had been forced to move on. If there had been a god of justice she might have kissed him for that.

She had knelt with her head bowed remembering and when she stood the priestess was looking at her curiously. Charyic shrugged. The Light Bringers approached to bind and gag her again and she sighed.

As she had knelt, the Prince of Cearazon had arrived. The man was incensed. His hood was pulled back revealing his dour face and ferocious black opal eyes, and his grip on his staff was tight as if he might lash out with it at any moment.

Charyic looked at him warily. She knew she wasn’t likely to be given over to him for whatever revenge he had planned, not until after they’d made her sing for their Holy Father, but the man was dangerous. There weren’t many men who could make people cower from a staff the same way they would from a battle axe, but the Black Prince managed it. Every impressive, terrifying inch of him was filled with barely restrained fury.

“You summon me instead of bringing them before me?” His words were spoken low and quiet, and the resentment in his voice was clear.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, I was told all you required was the two parties before you. Since they have only just arrived and will not be staying long, I thought it best to request your presence and have the matter cleared.” The priestess’ voice was sweet and conciliatory.

The Prince frowned and tilted his head ever so slightly allowing her to continue. Miryil stepped forward and Charyic was prodded and then dragged by an arm to stand next to her.

“I believe you know her to be a thief, your Highness?” Miryil spoke confidently. “I was told she attempted to rob you before she succeeded in robbing me.”

Charyic looked the Black Prince in the eye as his gaze fell on her. “Yes.” She thought for a moment that the shadow of a smile passed over his face.

“How have you judged the truth of our claim? That the horse belongs to us?” The priestess inquired gently.

His audible breath as he shifted his gaze from Charyic to the priestess betrayed his annoyance. “The horse is yours.”

“Thank you, your Highness.” The priestess smiled and inclined her head, “I will have it fetched immediately.”

The Prince nodded curtly and with a last look at Charyic turned to leave, pulling up his hood as he crossed the threshold.

“You leave immediately.” The priestess said to the four Light Bringers positioned around Charyic. “That man has plans and they cannot be permitted to be brought to fruition. Take her now.”

Hands took hold of the scowling Charyic and manhandled the unwilling thief toward the priest’s entrance. She noticed that Miryil looked smug. Esus was nowhere to be seen. As they stepped outside of the temple and closed the door there was a sudden commotion nearby. A drunken man began to rave about blasphemy and a girl was shrieking as if she feared for her life, one of the Light Bringers glanced to his comrades who nodded and he stepped away to investigate. The other three took her toward the small carriage.

She noticed the tack on the seat and sat opposite it as two Light Bringers climbed onto the driver’s perch and the other joined her in the carriage. He didn’t notice the tack, his attention was divided. He sat on it and drew in a sharp breath before shuddering and slumping. Charyic grinned and checked the floorboard for what she knew would be there, a false floor. The carriage began to move and she slipped out still bound and laid flat on the filthy roadway letting the carriage pass over her. A crowd surged across hiding her from view as a hand helped her up and threw a cloak over her.

In an alleyway, her bonds were cut and gag removed. She grinned and chirruped her thanks in Iskesh to be grinned at in return and shoved gently. She needed to be running. Charyic kept the hood up and moved with the flow of people. She would be going out the far gate, she thought of stealing a horse, but that would draw too much attention. There were always caravans coming and going from cities like this, moving people and goods. The last time she’d tried to rob one it hadn’t gone well, but she could hope her luck had changed. She would be avoiding priests for the rest of her life, not worth the trouble.

She was getting close to the gate when she felt the eyes on her. She bit her tongue to keep from cursing. There was a tavern on the left and the eyes all felt behind her. She ducked across the street and slipped into it with a smile to the barman. She pointed up the stairs and he looked at her baffled as she took them two at a time. She found an unlocked door and slipped out of the back window climbing down into an alleyway.

It opened into another street and if she was quick, Charyic was certain she could get away from whoever was following. She ducked out of the alleyway and back among the milling people as if she weren’t being hunted. Being calm was important. She turned down a busy street with fine lodgings and stables lining it.

When a man stepped from the doorway of one with a soft laugh and blocked her way she almost lost her grip on her tongue. The hooded man was unmistakably the Black Prince, and he ushered her into the building with his staff in hand.